Reflection (Remove filter)
The Wind
On summer evenings with not much to do,
The wind blows, soft enough to hear my words.
I ask the wind to bring relief,
I ask the wind to feel my pain,
I ask the wind to understand.
But the wind does not reply.
Yet, deep in private moments,
The wind knows more than you or I.
Monday 15th July 2024 8:18 am
Recent Comments
John Coopey on Forget-Me-Not
1 minute ago
John Coopey on To My Wonderful Son On Your Birthday
4 minutes ago
John Coopey on Another Old Poem
6 minutes ago
John F Keane on Fiona Larkin wins National Poetry Competition
1 hour ago
Graham Sherwood on For Patrick Bocarde
1 hour ago
Graham Sherwood on Reinvention.
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Tube Shelter
2 hours ago
Philip Stevens on These places
10 hours ago
Clare on Reinvention.
11 hours ago
Marla Joy on A Mother's Life
16 hours ago