There are certain levels, where
I can adjust the bedroom
Window...
The one above my head...
So that the wind moans like...
The Ancestors in White Birds...
English moors in Winter...
Flying Dutchman's sails in
High seas...
Never will the sounds made
Equal my soul's...
When you departed
Me.
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-moaning-wind/
