The wind sparks my words, my thoughts, even my dreams. I am me, an individual, who will always remain who I am, just me. Leaves may rustle, crack, and die off, but I will remain an individual for all to remember.

the wind
gently sparks
words, thoughts, pictures
inside a mind
sitting alone
inside a place
nobody can find
or even comprehend

the wind
swirls and glides
through an open window
rustling thought pictures around
like dead leaves
which have no place to go
but which have a lot to say
of where they have been

the wind
slams against my face
as it tries to get inside
my brain full of thoughts, of dreams,
of places I’ve been
of places I am going to

but here I am
standing my ground
as the wind blows
gently sparking,
swirling and gliding,
even slamming into me,
as my thoughts and dreams
remain mine to have

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