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