Wednesday, March 27, 2013

My Inner Poet

My inner poet is the wind
Uncontrollably rolling and puffing out treasures
And picking up new ones
Wild, free
The unpredictability lurks in my writing
Will I be destructive or inspiring?

When a hurricane strikes
I am lost and confused
Swirling aimlessly

But on calm days
I am soft
An encouraging cool whisper
A free soul
Free to write what I feel

The wind will always be my inner poet
A part of my writing
A part of myself
I am wild
I am the wind

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