The wind plays a music that swells my despair

Paints darker the setting of my lonely lair

Where I would recover from dreams kicked aside

My  eerie tormentor  comes back like the tide


Whistling and keening from high pitch to soft

Stirring the pigeons awake in the loft

Screeching  a branch on my window of stars

Playing the drainpipe in monotone bars


Resting and racing then altering course

“I saw your loved one” says its haunting voice

Routing the season of flowers and sun

Clearing the path for a desolate one