A Whispering Facial Expression: Secret Blown Poem by Kh. Qa.

The wind can bring back
what it has taken away
sometimes, like change;
except,
the two can be
enemies.

The ebb and flow
of meaning
pulsates
throbbing robs,
a revisiting gain
of pain again
and again.

torn petal flies
on palm of breeze,
blurs into vision,
looks as if ghost
the other side of its coin
apparition.

'She loves me not'
is the whisper time carries,
while change maintains
a different voice of wind.