The wind comes
like a whispering ghost
a quiet shush,
a long breath out
down the path,
behind my back.
I turn and last years leaves are lifting up from the path
they float and swirl
I watch
until the last two
slowly dance their way
back and forth
to the forest floor
Such a symbol of hope.
I have observed and enjoyed your blossoming as a poet in your own right. This along with all your other creative talents is inspiring.
Thank you LoisJean.:)
Lovely
Maria, you wrote this? I kept looking for an author – absolutely amazing.
Oh Eileen you are so kind, I wrote it.