He greets her
At the pier
And gently strokes
Her silver hair
He whispers words
Into her ears
But she won't listen
Heaven's tears
Then she leaves
He roars and screams
She leaves as if
He's never been
He blows and shows
He is the wind
YOU ARE READING
Leftovers
PoetryLeftovers Leftovers of me Every story has a piece A piece of my heart
