A poem written for me :)
The wind is calling, Her breath cold and clear.
She is trying to tell me she is near.
To the desert she calls in soft haunting ways
Mother Nature is waiting so patient and true
The desert she calls out, Has so much to offer you.
The sunsets of yellows, oranges and reds
Dance across the sky up over head.
The is an energy so pure and serine
Only your soul alone in the desert will see.
An eye of an artist, or stroke of a pen
Will be able to capture her to the end
The wind is calling so soft and so true
The desert she whispers will be waiting for you.
By L.S.R.
Howard Johnson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wind-51/
