Wind

Mild breeze weaving in my head

Singing gently as the threads of conversation

Fight for clarity of what we said.

Confusion reigns as the rain begins

And the wind is gathering speed

False memories of deception and sins.

The storm passes over and peace returns

Confrontation dims and no longer confounds

‘He said’, ‘she said’ as we took turns.

The clouds crumple and the sun beams out

And the wind catches my hair against my face

And I wonder what the controversy was all about.

And a name is whispered as the wind changes direction

But it’s hard to grasp the rustling inflection

Now the name in the wind is a far distant recollection.

By Linda Prince