Whistling Wind Poem by Cody O'Hara

The wind it whistles
The sighing tune

Lost within the
Heart's tribune

Which consoles the
Masses of the mind

Forcing the lonely
Soul to bind

Within themselves
A growing disdain

Which grips them
Like a rusty chain

And drains the life
From out their eyes

Leaving the throat
Only silent cries

With which to mouth
The growing loss

Which devours them leaving
Their bones to toss

Into the pit
From which their pains

Grow like vines
Throughout their veins

Until nothing is left
Save questions of dread

Which rise from the earth
Like the creeping dead