No one knows where the wind comes from
But we see can it in the trees
There's nothing there we can touch or hold
But we can feel its gentle breeze

The wind is made of voices
Just whispers in the night
From those who've long since passed away
Reaching, for the light

It sometimes comes in a sweet caress
From lovers who have died
A gentle kiss upon our cheeks
From a husband or a bride

A melancholy wind will sometimes blow
A whisper of the past
From broken hearts who've died alone
A love that didn't last

We sometimes feel that angry wind
A lost and tortured soul
Cursed to shout in a whispered voice
That time cannot console

So when you feel that warm spring breeze
Listen close and you will hear
The wind is made of whispering souls
From voices, no longer here

There's a place down deep inside of us
That's seldom ever seen
A hidden place where poems grow
A virtual word machine

We stumble through this hidden place
Choosing words to write
They stand in line, waiting their turn
To shine in the poet's light

Sometimes words are cast aside
Their meaning, skewed or blurred
We'll move them to the end of the line
And choose another word

We want to choose the special words
Like, love , joy and stars
But sometimes the only words we'll find
Are pain, heartache and scars

We keep this place where poems grow
Hidden inside our heart
A secret place that's filled with words
To write our work of art

When poets die, their words live on
You see them everywhere
They're written in the moon and stars
Or maybe, a humble prayer

They're written in the morning sun
As the sunshine brings us light
You can find them in the sunsets
That ushers in the night

They're written in the summer breeze
That tempts the leaves to dance
They're written in the beautiful flowers
That brings the spring romance

They're written in the winter snows
As snowflakes start to fall
They're written in the autumn leaves
In trees, both big and small

When poets die, their words live on
They never pass away
Anywhere your heart can look
Our words are here to stay

The paper will always listen
To what a teardrop has to say
We write with tears to free the soul
As we wipe the stains away

Heartaches are filled with heavy words
Tears make our heartaches light
Whenever we feel the weight of the world
The tears begin to write

The paper will never judge us
No matter who we are
Its only purpose, is to catch the tears
And heal our spirit's scar

Inside of every tear that falls
A broken heart is found
It must slowly stain the paper
Before it can make a sound

It's a necessary combination
These heartache souvenirs
A marriage made in heaven
The paper and the tears

It happens every Tuesday night
As faithful as can be
Her mama comes to spend the night
Just to torment me

She sits in my recliner
Her stinky feet, up high
She'll always pass a little gas
Each time, as I walk by

With her false teeth on my table
And hair all over her back
She grunts outloud when she chews her food
She sounds like a half starved yak

My toilet has to be replaced
It's never quite the same
That woman's as blind as she can be
And doesn't have very good aim

She falls asleep in my favorite chair
With her bladder like a thimble
She always pees where ever she sits
Then smiles, and starts to tremble

My wife just sits and shakes her head
Knowing, that I'm in pain
She says it's just an accident
As I clean up the stain

It happens every Tuesday Night
Old faithful, at its worst
Some men love their mother-in-law
But me, well, I'm just cursed

Petals on the rose
Reflect your beauty and grace
Giving them their blush

Kissed by morning dew
Awakened by the sun's smile
The wind calls your name

The birds write their songs
With you as inspiration
I breathe your beauty

Awakened by your singing
Each morning at first light
I'd listen to your harmony
That you never got quite right

Smiling at your laughter
While lying in the bed
You giggling out of control
At something your sister said

I'd listen as you prayed each night
Before you went to sleep
Asking God, if you should die
Your soul for Him to keep

But now there's no more singing
No morning harmony
A house that's void of laughter
As quiet as can be

The prayer you prayed to God each night
I've hidden in my heart
The silence in this lonely house
Is truly the hardest part