by Deiondre Alexander

Created on: September 11, 2008

The wind speaks to me

In whispers and wails

Like the voices of ghosts

Fresh yet somehow stale

It blows an earthly peace

and also a spirit decay

Does it sweep from the heavens?

Or rise from the graves?

At times I am soothed

Others, I am chilled

Somtimes the wind flies smooth

And others, it could kill.

Calming is the breeze

Unlike its cousin storm

One drifts aloft to please

The other rages airborne

I hear voices in them both

A bittersweet entangle

The hisses of the ghosts

the singing of the angels.

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