There are days

When the wind whispers through my mind,

Softly, gently, almost silently.

It speaks in ancient rhymes,

Of a time

When you

Were just a dream,

Waiting to come true.

There are days

When the wind howls through my mind,

Reminding me

Of paths of blood

I chose to tread,

Instead of paths of love.

Bottled peace I do partake

Before the wind doth see me break.

I seek the whispering wind.

                                   _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Owain Glyn