Gentle winter wind whispers through the window.
Tapping tree branches and rustling leaves along its way .
Like a child at play,
Sometimes picking things up and carrying them off along its way.
Like a thief  adding to its trove.
And yet lonely is it along its way?
And who would ever know where it goes?
As it slows down like an old man to take a rest.
The gentle winter wind now gone will return again.
Some days when winter is set upon us once more.