The wind rushes in
as it cares for none.
It whistles through the windows
and all my pages come undone.
I rush to gather them
and hide them in a pile-
For they're undeniable proof
of my heart's turmoil.
But try as I might,
the wind rushes in!
And my papers fly out
putting my world in a spin.
I scramble to my feet—in fear of
what the wind wrought.
Now I'm sure, my heart and mind
to you, have been brought.
fin~
