Olive Curtians Poem by D.C. Malone

A pitcher pours
Droplets of wind
Against the sheer,
Olive curtains
Of my bedroom's
Open Window

'Ever Flowing'
Is the name of
The breath that blows
The rippling sails
That softly veils
My consciousness

With this ever-
-flowing stream comes
Never settling
Always bustling
And the constant
Sound of the Wind
Howling its name
To its own self

And it's the fact
That I know that
The wind is not
As free as I'd
Like it to be
That I shall then
Close the window
With a harsh 'snap'
For who has time
For those with tongues
They cannot use

And since I was
Born to do so
I shall leave my
Room and walk like
How the wind blows:
Up in the air
Yet anchored to
Sentiments and
Passionate Un-
-predictability
Because every
Pretty thing is
Waiting for me
Outside the sheer,
Olive curtains
Of my bedroom's
Now shut window