Listen to the wind
Empty streets, look so bare,
feel the wind, tug at my hair.
The trees they sing a melody,
but no one listens, only me.
I hear sadness, in it's air song,
all I want to do is to sing along.
Sway in the motion, of the beat,
trees in the wind, on its retreat.
House dark, when late at night,
all look sad, in dawns grey light.
Meanwhile the wind whistles free,
no one listens, there is only me.
Now the sun is up, rising high,
it's chased away the starry sky.
The moon too, goes off to hide,
but this wind will always chide.
Even in summer, it breezes along,
the trees sing a whispering song.
Whispering that the wind is free,
but no one listens, well only me.
bkewl.
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