To Marcy Howard
The wind slowly starts to build;a storm is rolling in,
Pulling or pushing all those things;that in the past have been,
Memories become alive;as we’re touched by its flow,
The reminder of a touch we’ve felt;but a touch we no longer know.
The wind carries the pain away;and we only have what remains,
A thought or smile that lives within;a familiar songs refrain,
It might remind of flowing hair;or it might remind of things thought lost,
As it sweeps debris across the heart;a reminder of the cost.
The wind caresses the wounds and scars;brings memories alive,
Never caring who it might touch;or when a dream arrives,
It has no body or even face;but can be felt and sometimes seen,
It can force you down a certain path;or reveal the things between.
The wind is always a constant force;even though it comes and goes,
As it holds tomorrow’s promise;and holds emotion that each day grows,
And though you can not hold the wind;it holds the promise of what has been,
And as it touches heart and soul;its you I hold, as I feel the wind.