Shadows in the wind,
whispers, voices from the past
of those never to return;
satin nights with neon moon,
lover’s lust for love,
travelers on the road
in search of a truth
purer than their own.
Whispers
23 Sunday Oct 2011
Posted in Poems in English I, Poetry
Eric Alagan said:
As a teenager, I would spend hours sitting alone on a hillock with the warm afternoon breeze on my face. Sometimes I hear whispers, sometimes I smell something – nothing spooky, always pleasant. I often wondered where you come from, after caressing me, where do you rush off…
Your poem evoked memories for me. Thank you Francina.
Francina said:
You’re welcome, Eric, and thank YOU for your wonderful insightful comment. I know what you mean and indeed it’s never spooky but very peaceful. The wind makes you wonder and imagine.
Have a peaceful day!
Ciao, Francina