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The Wind Whispers It’s Secrets

The land captures my heart

By Colleen Millsteed Published about a year ago 1 min read
Image courtesy of the Author

Green grassy paddock stretching off into the distance,

A cool breeze dries the glow from my face,

The birds twitter from the tree branches,

Chorusing my thoughts on how lucky I am to find this place.

******

My ears hear the silence and rejoice,

My eyes view the horizon of pristine bushland,

My thoughts wander to times of past,

Of years gone by, of each awry plan.

******

Regrets? No, not of today, yesterday or even tomorrow,

To regret the past is to regret this version of me,

Without which I’d not be here, not now,

No, those past hiccups, mishaps, heartbreaks; they set me free.

******

Life took its toll,

I wasted so many years, yes I’ll agree,

But there was obviously a reason,

A necessity full of validity.

*******

For here I sit, surveying the world around me,

Mine, no not at all and that’s a blessing,

Because I don’t hold the responsibility, the problems,

No I’m free to up and leave, if things turn depressing.

*******

Time will tell if I’ve made the right decision,

But I have to admit, new views and time alone,

Have been magical to say the least,

I’d have done this years ago if only I’d known.

*******

Every second is precious to me now,

The simple, gentle life is my biggest dream,

The freedom to move along when it suits,

Forget the stress, drama and any other extreme.

Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.

Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.

Originally published on Medium

inspirational

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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Comments (5)

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  • Anweshaabout a year ago

    "To regret the past is to regret this version of me, Without which I’d not be here, not now, " I loved this part!! When I am with nature, my tongue just slips memories and thoughts that turns into a poem. This poem is adorable😍

  • Andrew C McDonaldabout a year ago

    Melancholy and wistful. Very nicely done. 🤗

  • Wow, that wind really is whispering its secrets, huh? Good poem, boss, keep it up!

  • Michelle Renee Kidwellabout a year ago

    Loved ths, living in regrets is a depressing way to live, found this beautifully inspiring.,.

  • I'm soooo happy for you hehehehehe. Loved your poem!

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