Her Voice In The Wind - Inspired By Liberata (Libby) Marinilli - Poem by Joseph Palmateer
I walked down ST. Mary’s Street,
The cobble stone run was wet with the gleam of street light glow,
Massive Bare Oaks with spotted cloves of brown garnished its sides all the way,
Giving it a spooky visual show.
Can you hear as I have… as the wind whistles down the narrow thoroughfare?
If you’re still… so quiet,
You just may,
Her voice Whispers in the air.
Some say it is an illusion of the mind,
Just your mind playing a trick,
It’s not a voice that you hear…
But the wind against the wood or brick.
Yet when I listened carefully to the voice,
Carried on the wind… all down the way,
I ask… when does the wind ever give you advice?
Or request you to go or stay?
So I followed the wind on that cold damp night,
As it lead me on… to what, I had no clue,
Until further up… I saw someone walking,
And to my surprise... it was some view.
There towards me she was walking,
As she came closer… my heart began to race,
Until she stopped in front of me,
Then she stared into my face.
The wind does speak so softly,
If you listen when it blows,
It may take you on a journey,
To meet someone you were meant to know.
There stood Liberata Marinilli,
Smiling back at me,
But just then my journey ended,
As I awoke from that dream.
Yet every time the wind now blows,
I hear her voice so faint… but clear,
I’ve always remembered you… it would say,
And I also have… always remembered her.
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The Road Not Taken
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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