Whispers of the Wind
What secrets does this unseen power hold?
Whispers of the Wind
In the quiet
of the evening hour,
With gentle sighs
and playful tunes,
It dances
beneath the silvered moon.
Through the trees,
it twirls,
A swirl of leaves,
Carrying tales
from far away,
Of distant lands
Blown away..
It rustles softly
through the grass,
It howls through mountains,
fierce and bold,
A wild spirit,
untamed and cold.
It speaks in secrets,
As it blows.
Causing havoc as it goes.
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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 (5)
So beautiful, I sure relate having heard my own name whispered upon the wind,
What a lovely poem Marie. Very nice.
This is beautiful, Marie. Well done.
This poem flows like the wind. One as only to listen and the wind has answers.
I can hear the wind right now, so to come across this right then and there is perfect. Your poem personifies the wind, so much so that it’s almost as if the wind directed your fingers to tell its own tale. Each line was in harmony with the way it moves. Well done ♦️👌🏽♥️♦️