The Tuneful Whistling Wind …
like the sound,
of the tuneful wind –
passing through organ pipes.
Games with the tuneful wind,
on windy days,
it softly whistles,
and mildly plays with my hair,
as I go walking along reminding me of an old love song.
On the mildest of days,
when it seemed I could reach out,
take the hand of the wind in mine
and starting to dance.
Then I know you took the place,
of that debonaire wind,
for you danced me breathless
and I heard you whisper my name.
On stormy days,
it seems to be angry
and its whistling,
turns to howls –
as the wind shrieks along.
I like it best,
down by the riverside,
as it makes ripples upon the water
and gulls alight on the waves.
They go flowing along with the river
and the wind gently whistles,
a traveling tune,
as the gulls are joined by ducks and geese.
I love to listen to the tuneful wind,
as it blows in the night,
all the fragrant scents are so much stronger –
in the dark and last longer.
As I listen snug and cozy in my bed,
I hear lullabies from long ago in my head.
On stormy nights,
as the wind whips to a frenzy,
it puts on quite a show,
blowing the dark clouds –
through a mysterious night.
It reminds me of times so long ago,
playing with my memories,
when I hear a certain tune,
under the full moon.
When it seems that fairies,
come waltzing down moonbeams –
making the darkest night glow in a silvery light.
Love to go down the road,
just the whistling wind and me,
enjoying being fancy-free,
doing a nice two-step along the way,
nothing could be finer,
than a tuneful whistling wind,
would love to learn that melody –
it certainly seems to speak just to me.
For more works by this author see Rasma Raisters on The Creative Exiles.
Rasma also writes lovely poems on HubPages under the pen name of Gypsy Rose Lee. You can read more of her works at Rasma on HubPages.