Poetry

This month has been particularly windy where I'm at. I was discussing these windy days and all the things with my sister (the one from all the monthly reading posts) and she low-key bullied me into writing a poem. Figured I'd share it here as well. Though full disclosure- I'm not a poet. 

I'm not a poet. 

The wind calls... softly... deeply... quickly... 

A touch.... a breath. Not seen.... felt. 

I'm not a poet. 

The wind snuffs out the candle, it's coming... coming... coming. Whats coming?

The wind longs... It calls. Do you listen? Can you hear? 

I'm not a poet. 

The sky darkens. The wind blows. 

Hair across your face. Cloth flat against your skin. Forward, forward. Onward it whispers. 

I'm not a poet. 

A shiver. A shudder. A leaf carried away

Wind... breath in, breath out. It is  

There is no wind in space. But found in all of us. 

You dont have to be a "poet" to write poetry.