Loading ...The wind is my lover, the night air is a friend
I don’t listen to the wind anymore
At least to wait to hear him speak stories
Tales of other worlds
Prophecies being unfurled
Instead I lie awake
With new curiosities
Hoping the whispers
Might turn into soliloquies
Id wish he spoke of me
As tenderly as he blows, of my face
Smooth and unriddled of ache
Newer or older than a child
I’d wish someone would want me
As I want the wind
To howl on my cheeks
And so I leave a window open