The Fight

The wind is cold, and violent.
It leaves a path of destruction.
It breaks things without warning or cause.
Blasting straight through my skin, hair, nose, mouth without apology.
I miss it when it was gentle, and caressed my face with warm whispers.
Flirting with the hem of my dress.
Breezing through my fringe.
No playing today, no, today it is fierce.
Scattering treasure.
I seek refuge inside, where it is calm, and quiet.
But I can still hear it raging.
Screaming
Pounding




Your words are cold and violent.
They leave a path of destruction.
They break my heart...


Ode to Air.