I love poetry. This one is called: The Wind
No one knows where the wind goes.
No one knows why the wind blows.
And I don't think that anyone cares,
When the wind blows through their hair,
When the wind whispers and sighs,
When the wind passes by,
When the wind roars its song,
As people pass along.
Sheilded from its blows,
In their homes below.
Not from the wind, but from other things.
Not answering when the doorbell rings.
Deaper meanings arise,
Tears in my eyes,
As the wind blows by,
And no one cares why.
Wasn't my poem AWESOME? biggrin smile mrgreen razz cool They just come to me. idea I'm a genious!!!
 Broken_Soul_Torn_Mind · Wed Jan 03, 2007 @ 11:38pm · 4 Comments |
