The Wind Chimes
In the shelter of the Oak of the North:
I hang, waiting for the Northern wind to come.
I may be old, weak and rusted,
And my rusted metals… already forgotten
By those who stayed… under this oak’s shelter.
Those memories…they still linger:
The old wooden house with the white-wooded fence.
The window in the attic… from where they looked.
When the Northern wind came, they laughed,
And I echoed them, while dancing in the wind.
They hung me in here, and still I stay:
Waiting for the wind, so to make them gay.
I dance with the wind in early morning:
I scarcely dance in the night.
But once came the Northern wind
With a strange but powerful sound,
And I danced with it for one whole night
But found their house… destroyed.
August 19, 2018
Wind chimes poetry contest sponsored by Edward Ibeh
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