I am quickly aware
Of every breeze
Tho’ only strong
enough to brush
A tendril of hair.
Turning to sense the direction
I wait.
For the cold North wind
Won’t do.
Nor the hot wind of the
South.
Certainly not
The uncaring wind of the
East.
But, oh, when the winds
blow
To the West,
I stop and whisper
The words that would have
kept you here
And pray they’ll
find their way
To you
