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Wind Free
The wind blows free,
and the you in me,
is revealed.
The clouds roll by,
in an endless sky,
and we know our fate,
is sealed.
So off we go,
to and fro,
to chase the wind,
of our desire.
Nomads of note,
in a land of rote,
we dare not raise,
the hurricane's ire.
The ease of the breeze,
does as it please,
and we are but embers,
to its fire.
We float on the draft,
our own little liferaft,
looking for ways,
to inspire.
But everyone knows,
whichever way the wind blows,
we'll bend to its whimsical lyre.
Free as the wind,
from thoughts that have sinned,
risen from the muck and the mire.
To reach for the stars,
where the wind never mars,
and our grasp soars ever higher.
Copyright 2014 © Ronald W. Hull
2/1914
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Kathy
But when it's arctic, I always freeze.
David
Always,
Deborah
Beautiful the edge of the wind in romantic flair.
Lady Mary Ann
and get this poem-thanks...a noble gift...bestowed upon some...never
the most...Remarkable...evidence in words...that naturally gravitate
toward....both....
Overall though, lyrical, great metaphor of the wind for our desire, looking for a way to inspire, freedom, and soaring nomadic. It all comes together nicely. Well done, Danae
to a hurricanes ire,
of your poetry,
I could never tire.
Michael D.
Love ya!
Thomasena