Wind
The wind blows through the trees. Its like a caress on my cheek. It whistles coming near. It wispers in my ear. The language of the wind brings us back to the land.
👁 3💬 1
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (1)
Log in to leave a comment.