The wind plays a music that swells my despair
Paints darker the setting of my lonely lair
Where I would recover from dreams kicked aside
My eerie tormentor comes back like the tide
Whistling and keening from high pitch to soft
Stirring the pigeons awake in the loft
Screeching a branch on my window of stars
Playing the drainpipe in monotone bars
Resting and racing then altering course
“I saw your loved one” says its haunting voice
Routing the season of flowers and sun
Clearing the path for a desolate one
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 6:59 AM UTC
The wind plays a music that swells my despair
Paints darker the setting of my lonely lair
Where I would recover from dreams kicked aside
My eerie tormentor comes back like the tide
Whistling and keening from high pitch to soft
Stirring the pigeons awake in the loft
Screeching a branch on my window of stars
Playing the drainpipe in monotone bars
Resting and racing then altering course
“I saw your loved one” says its haunting voice
Routing the season of flowers and sun
Clearing the path for a desolate one
Copyright Louis Brown
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