Catching the Wind
I lift my hands in play,
and chase what cannot stay.
Catching the wind they call it,
a game that never ends.
The breeze slips through my fingers,
it laughs and moves away.
I run but cannot hold it,
its freedom is too wild.
Catching the wind is longing,
to seize what can’t be caught.
Like dreams that drift away,
just as I reach for them.
The trees are filled with whispers,
their branches bend and sway.
The leaves become the dancers,
that follow where it goes.
I spread my arms to welcome,
the breath that passes near.
It touches skin so lightly,
then leaves without a word.
Catching the wind is sorrow,
yet joy is in the chase.
For even if it flees me,
I still have felt its song.
I keep on chasing after,
though empty is my hand.
The wind reminds me gently,
not all is meant to stay.
So let me chase forever,
a friend that cannot rest.
Catching the wind may fail me,
but still it makes me whole.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (4)
Lovely imagery, Maire. Especially: "The trees are filled with whispers, their branches bend and sway. The leaves become the dancers," struck a chord with me.
Just lean into the wind a little more and you will be surprised on what you receive. Good job.
wow
Lovely