Fantasy, poem

Monday Morning Melts

If I’m not the one, then who am I?

The empty wind sighed and gusted by alone.
No leaf danced in its blow.
No lock of hair fluttered free from its bow.
Crickets chirped on below.

No one knows who am I
except the retreating wind
and he’s silent as a winter morn. 

for Monday Morning Melts hosted by Jade and Rosema.

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16 thoughts on “Monday Morning Melts”

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