Its August When the wind blows My hair, my smile off my face, my eyes full of sand And my dress comes flying over my head, I stand In the middle of the race Of dust coming from all over the place. Its Misery When the wind knocks On the door, opens it without invitation And enters without hesitation My mood overflows with desperation My mind with determination To stop this irritation This never-ending, awful sensation- This winds illustration Of my worst humiliation Its motivation to tear me apart It pulls at me, but then pushes me away, Again! Its gladness When he finally leaves This unwelcome guest, to tease Yet another until She's driven to madness too. Its surprise When he returns once more And rushes out to deform a helpless tree Whatever can the reason For such, strange behaviour be? Like a child he throws a tantrum, But what can one do? To please this friendless wind? And comfort it too? Its peace when he eventually ceases To anger me. "Take me or leave" He softly whispers through The leaves in the trees, As he slowly leaves I can breathe once again. Its regret That fills my heart What can I ever miss about That spiteful one that grabs and rips you Apart? Its sadness That fills my soul My agitated friend is gone And I am, once again, Alone!