The clattering wind came back again
In the cold, dark hours of the morn,
There must have been such a mighty wind
In the hour that I was born.
For I went outside to savour it,
I love the wind in the trees,
Anything from a sultry blow
To an ice cold winter breeze.
And Miriam always chided me
I should keep the door pulled to,
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: horror