The Moaning Wind Poem by elysabeth faslund
The Moaning Wind
There are certain levels, where
I can adjust the bedroom
Window...
The one above my head...
So that the wind moans like...
The Ancestors in White Birds...
English moors in Winter...
Flying Dutchman's sails in
High seas...
Never will the sounds made
Equal my soul's...
When you departed
Me.
Lysbeth, I can always rely upon you to stir up my senses and get me sailing again.
Mellifluous metaphoric magnificence! ...Very well done, young lady...You never disappoint, do ya' now? ! ..........Awesome Title, to boot... ~ FjR ~
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4/23/2024 7:51:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
great imagery, and heartfelt words. i can feel your loss.