The Wind - Anaphora Poem
The wind whistles in the cold dark night,
The wind sights through the boughs of old trees,
The wind whispers through the tall river reeds,
The wind ripples the field of high grasses,
The wind brushes my face and plays with my hair,
The wind is something no one can see,
The wind is something no one can touch,
Yet the Wind can see and touch us all.
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.
