Wind
Wind, blow
softly, and make our clothes dry.
In the rainy storm, when the clouds hang high,
Nip at the little droplets and take them to the
sky.
Dry, dry our clothes so we can heave a happy
sigh.
flow
oh, to be a wind spirit. my lithe form flutters through the chimes that tinkle in a glass house on a mound. we are but tiny soldiers of clay and fire, baked and painted little toys, when forgotten, lifeless. fallen leaves rustle, only to become laden with the weight of time and be buried forever. to be the little sprite stealing in between broken columns and blades of grass and throats of sparrows in a nurturing tree. to be an imperceptible shift, the inconsequential whisper in a crowd of voices that want to leave their mark.
loved it!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Raashi!!
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