By: Artistic Perspective
The wind is whistling to me.
To me, and to me only.
I hear it, even from far away.
I feel it, on my cheek, and blowing my hair.
Sometimes it howls, I wonder what it's feeling.
Why ruin a sunny day with wind?
I guess it's to make the grass, flowers, and trees dance.
Isn't that what people want? Entertainment?
When I feel the prickle of the wind, crawling up my skin,
I wonder, why me?
I realize, I am special, with a gift.
To see, hear, and feel the wind.
Comments about this poem (Wind by Artistic Perspective )
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