Tuesday, 6 September 2011

The White Sails of the Wind

The wind gasps against the window
the glass shakes 
it sprints through the trees 
and the branches ache

While lying in bed 
the strangest of thoughts 
occur in my head 
of white washed sails 
above the house 
billowing in the breeze 
drifting along 
with the simplest of ease 

The ship brings the wind 
so it's sails can flow 
it steers through the sky 
its movement strong, slow 
and all the while 
the wind bellows.

The ship of the night time 
navigating with the moon
but it will be gone, 
it will be gone soon.

The wind is silent against the window
the glass is still 
it stops in the trees 
and there is a chill. 

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