When the wind blows I curl my toes
and wait for the breeze to tickle my nose
It flys by my ears and I hear it moaning
It sounds so lonely
I picture myself surronded in trees
Hearing the soft whisper of her voice
go through my ears
I pictured what she looked like
this troubled soul
who makes the wind blow
I picture us best friends
Ruling as the voice that the wind throws
Standing in your weather
Makes my troubles seem better
because you take them all away
with closed eyes I draw you in
while hearing every despreat cry
I wish I could help you
you poor soul stuck in the wind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
picture myself surronded in trees Hearing the soft whisper of her voice go through my ears I pictured what she looked like.desire and the way the human mind goes. well written poem dear poetess. tony