Love poetry


1 Blowing the swain’s mind





29 March 2009 0.3

Blowing the swain’s mind

The wind is motionless

for a moment,

then it decides

to tease the tendrils

of my sweet love’s hair.

The wind is playful

as it breathes

a blossom petal

on her forehead,

The wind is laughing

as it tucks at the folds

of my true love’s dress

that caresses her legs.

The wind is sighing

as it slips a farewell touch

over my sweet love’s cheek;

the wind is dying

and I do not know where to seek.