Poetry

All but the wind

The wind rattles my attic door,

as if trying to reach its way in

to where I sit

when I need space to think.

It is late

and you are asleep,

and all but the wind is still and calm.

The wind sneaks in from upstairs

on cold nights when I feel nothing.

And it does not

make me feel any better

or any worse

I feel just the same

And all but the wind is still and calm.

The wind used to feel like magic

when I was young and I did not know

all that I know

now that I don't feel so young.

But, I'm not old

just stuck in between.

And all but the wind is still and calm.

The wind finds me and pulls me away

snatches me from where I sit,

in thought,

away from myself, away, away

to a world which exists

only when I close my eyes.

And all but the wind is still and calm

All but the wind

is still

and calm.