The wind blows but I know it means well, not to sneak into the crack of a sleeping baby's window, but to tickle the trees, and to give me a peace I can't find in anything else.
And what I can't grab is how it dances, because I could never dance like it and if I could I would grab at the stars and be one with the clouds because thats what the wind can do
I would sit on the tree tops and have picnics of falling chestnuts
I would pet the backs of squirrels and give life to the wings of the birds and everything would be okay because I would have no broken home to go back to, but a field of flowers waiting to sway with me and hear my songs
You know when the birds sing? Yeah, well they couldn't do much without the wind, it's a mere imitation of it's beautiful sound.
The wind means well
Let it carry your hair an inch from your face and close your eyes and you may fly like the bluejays it lifts
Let it blow your clothes in a rhythmic pattern like waves on the sea and feel the ocean beneath you as you glide above it, as you fly
If I were the wind I would laugh as I bounced from kite to kite making the young ones at the end of the string happy
I want to be wind
To do all of these things
but mostly to be able to touch all of you at once