|
Poetry by Peter D. Orr
|
|
|
The Wind O' Pain Sitting in the sight Of faint street lights At a third story window Someone remains silently Half in shadow Looking upon the world below. Alone... Adrift in streams of thought The wind blows past the pane As the curtains rise and fall In a gentle, angelic refrain. And remaining still he feels Her hands as the breeze Sifts through his hair. A subtile reminder, Bitter-sweet, Of a love that isn't there. With outstretched hands This mortal band Reaches out upon the wind Extending to feel the slope of her ear, her cheek, her chin. The mighty din Of one thousand distant stars Shimmer far above... A tear drop Skirts the sky And reminds him Of her love. |