Curvature
Bending like the Willow frame
Waving at me
Like the friendly greeting of a winding lane
All the while knowing
That it's not even your sound which calls to me
No
It's just the winds of life
Whistling through the outstretched trees
Grasping at experiences which have yet to come
But in time will be
With all of the sounds and windings of a meadow stream
Your curvature and me