Airs and Graces (Prose)


whispering winds uncoloured
you make yourself at home
licking under cracked paint
of my window sill
curling the room, I watch

oh if I could call by name
what would I name thee
you who soar into darkness
of night and brighten dust
make curtains dance

filling expanses
with enthusiasm
yet you enter, enveloping me with softness

once you have passed
where do you dwell
drawing back from whence you came
what becomes of you
no sense of touch, yet you caress

like a lovers smooth hands
gentle touch, you glide

©jmtacken 7th March, 2014

Sometimes I wonder where ideas spring from, this was in my head the last couple of days. Had to write it, then found the picture.

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