Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The wind around me slithers 
past my skin
All around me.
The whoosh
In my ear,
Drowns out the others.
But will the wind still blow?
Will the little creek
With the pitter patter of the falling
To the rock still flow?
The clear, rippled water
With a constant stream of motion.
Watching the water 
Flow and flow.
But will the birds still go?
Their sing-songy voices
All around me.
The whoosh
Of the feathers
When first on flight.
If the wind will still blow, 
If the creek will still flow,
Or if the birds will still go,
I cannot say
For I didn't not know.