The troubled mind is filled with weightlessness
as the breeze wanders into the window,
winding back hours with the heartís compass,
a reminiscent invisible glow.
Wishful hopes which constantly meander
since the saunter along the shore in dawn
with the decoration of a zephyr,
similar in spurring feelings foregone.
And although the wind may be whimsical,
in it, 'tis perfection I can picture
framed within edges of the ethereal
and there, remains beauty with no barrier.
The breeze brings memories of you to me,
a reverie I hope someday will be.