Wind on the Wold.

The wind on the Wolds.
Will speak to you.
If you stand still and silent.
As you sometimes do.
You will hear its broken words.
As it gently flows.
Dancing through the trees.
And the hedgerows.
Speaking as it goes.
Soft whisperings.
As on it blows.
Its broken words.
Which are always spoken.
But seldom,ever heard.
Over mile upon mile.
Alone is when best to hear them.
Gentle voices murmuring.
Of maybe Souls.
Once known,and held dear.
But now sadly,no longer here.
Maybe just Souls adrift on the wind.
Blowing their way, into tommorow.
Telling their tales.
All of yesterdays sorrows.

 

Cool poem. It gave me a great image as I read your words.


Later,
Ben.

 

....once again...very nice work

 

its feeling like an sort of summer breeze, if you read it it flows like the wind does. very cool!

 

nice poem good work i like it

-keep on keeping on

 

i enjoyed that. i heard many of my thoughts echo through there. i remember once asking where is wind going and from where did it come. i like the romanticism in this work and will never feel the wind the same.

 

Great, so full of subtle currents, it filled my imagination.

 

this is a real nice, it reminds me of time gone bye, when everyone was not rushing about everyone had time to stop and look