There are gusts sometimes
When my hair is swept
From my eyes and I just feel

The cool wind pull my feet along
The sandy gravel of the path

Lamplight leaving shadows of each  tiny stone
And the branches swaying calmly
Like the blue ribbon on my notebook

A black cat prowls out of an opening
Then stops when she hears me there

And I stand like an actress as she stares
With my hair swaying like reeds
On a grey shore