Attic window open on the night
a dim wash of light
as hinges creak
From the page, I raise my pen
is that your laugh, your voice I hear
blowing through the years
Is it you, is it real
or a song of the wind
it is you, is it real
I’m never sure
I see the miles of white tiles
that infinite airport floor
where you left me statuesque
our future time without a date
that never came
The shredding of our story
lost, somewhere in the night
amidst the terminal and the air
somehow I wanted to imagine more
that never was
Is it you, is it real
or a song of the wind
it is you, is it real
well, I never know
I checked my post
fifteen times this week
was that you I heard
addressing me with a howl
or a song of the wind
the only tune I hear these days
Thank you for the kisses
the love and warmth you brought
all the jokes we shared
and your fingers in my beard
how could I forget
It’s you, it’s you
a song of the wind
always it’s you
such a sweet melody to have known
And on the wind
I hope your memory
will always blow
beside me…
[2019]
Thanks for reading.
Image Credit: https://www.instagram.com/nightwalkermagazine/
For M.L.
I really enjoyed this, particularly these few lines: I see the miles of white tiles
that infinite airport floor
where you left me statuesque
our future time without a date
that never came
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Thanks Hannah. That’s my favourite bit too 🙂
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Has the new URL for my blog filtered through yet?
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Feelings and Metaphors? Yes, that’s working now 🙂
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“I hope your memory will always blow beside me”, awe grippingly sweet!
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Ah, glad you enjoyed and thanks for following. Looking forward to reading more of your stuff; I’m very much into the pen-related works so far 🙂
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Haunting poem.
Thanks for following my blog and introducing me to yours!
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Thanks so much. Glad you enjoyed. I’m looking forward to keeping up with your blog too. 🙂
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