Who am i
sailing in the wind?
The breath is literally stolen out of me.
Feeling as though I'm falling from the sky,
i grasp the locket of days past.
My vision is flooded.
Delicately, the little crystals of white lay themselves to sleep on the already linen draped ground.
There in front of me,
i see a bird of carmine perched stiffly upon a brazen statue.
There, i wipe the linen off of the half hidden statue.
A weathered man of age is exposed.
i sigh deeply, for now, i could actually catch my breath.
the features shown on the man's face are rough and sullen.
i remember days of old.
Walks in the park with him were peculiar.
His pipe always smelled of tainted tobacco.
i used to loathe that smell, but now, i miss it, along with my old weathered man.
There was a day in particular, long ago, when we strolled through the park.
My weathered man needed to retire on a bench and i had to comply.
A gust of chilled wind flooded my nostrils and lungs.
The smell of distant fresh rain and used tobacco filled the air, but soon, the wind regressed.
My weathered man pulled a tarnished silver locket from his tote.
With his gruff voice, he spoke,
Listen to the wind and close your eyes,
for it will take you where your heart pleases.
Hold on to the memory of me,
until the wind fully ceases.
Now,
who am i
sailing in the wind?
My breath stolen,
i fell from the sky,
and i grasp the locket of days gone by.
