Blow.
Watch it blow.
Watch it blow through
the brezze.
I love the feeling.
It feels like....
It feels like love.
But when it stops,
there is no love.
But you see when
the wind stops
I know that it will
come back.
Unlike love, the wind
will always come back.
I wish I could say
'come back love.'
But that is never
going to happen.
So I'll just live with it.
For sooner or later
the wind will be back.
And with it
someone new.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem