The Wind
The wind
comes in at night,
bringing with it new ghosts
but I'm wrapped tight in mother's quilt,
each painstaken swatch stitched by her own hand
She sings a breathy lullabye
and rocks me to sleep in
the cradle of
the wind
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
