Some say it's bleak and cold
This wind that never dies.
It ages you, makes you cold,
Wears you down when you try.
This wind they hate with fervor,
Carries me to flights of fancy.
Whirling, dancing, wondering what's in store,
I give myself over to the wind dancing.
I rise, a leaf in the storm,
Let it take me where it will.
There'll be times when I'm not warm.
There'll be times when I'm not still.
The freedom of this effortless flight,
The heights to which I soar,
Make it all seem right,
And I'll ride the wind more and more.
Copyright Donna Ridgway 2004
I wrote this poem after I met my Robert. Knowing him is like wind dancing, you are so free in his company, to be yourself.
The poem also expresses the way I feel about my art, who knows where it will take me? But now I'm free to create all I want, the wind can take me where it will.
The Farmers' Museum
1 day ago