I hold a pen
              It’s yours
It won’t write for me
Suit my hand
My words
My mood
Even if it did
                 I think memory
              Is best left within
Rather than releasing ink
That’s beyond written expression

No experience required
No camouflage
Just patience
         Suppleness of thought

Windsocks tell of things
                     Beyond control
Slight shifts
Reflect calm
                      Between chaos

Whilst watching windsocks
Opinions rest
Until hit by storm
      Then shift in an instant