The wind goes and flows,
Sometimes it just pulls and rips,
Like waves of the ocean,
Not really sure what you’re going to get.
The wind can plant a soft kiss,
Then the next moment spread lies real quick.
The wind can roar like a lion but go out with a whisper.
The wind a phenomenon that can’t be captured.
But felt, heard, and smelt.
Is the wind truly real?

However,
I am jealous of the wind.
I long to be as free as the wind.
With no cares.
To glide through the sky.
Where time passes by, but I don’t age.
The wind, where does it come from?
Where does it go?
Oh, the adventures the wind must experience.
To explore without boundaries.
Or have to face discrimination.
I am so envious of the wind.