Archive for the wind


Posted in My Poetry with tags , , , on April 12, 2019 by Plathinson

You whir through strands,
entangling locks of hair
I carefully brush
a hundred times over.

Sometimes I loathe
how playful you are.

I remember those dandelions
you often told a classic tale to
I’ve never once caught
a handful of you.

When those gentle hums
whisper sweets
I stop craving in years,
please be still.

© Gheeneil