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
Lost
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
