THE WIND....

Flowing through the grey of winnter,

Like a river of silver meandering the air,

And paving the ground beneath with happiness,

Was a gust of wind passing by.

It saw you counting tears in solitude,

Laden with sadness it leashed its flow,

And hung over your head with a melancholy glow.

The wind was pure at heart and played the clown.

It hopped and jumped and played a funny sound.

Tickling leaves aplenty, it chuckled at trees which frowned.

You sat in silence all the while: towards you the wind was bound.

It filled your hair and made it dance the the tune of your heart,

The wind weaved your hair and made a rainbow of your locks.

Lips twitched and cheeks stretched and you burst out a laugh!