wind
I stand alone
the wind brushes my skin
like a mother, a brother,
a sister, a lover
that rush of breath imparts
an indeterminate affection
which I do so strive to return
by dancing, moving like the air
an intimate dual choreography
but someone walks nearby
loud in their dullness, all their mundane noise
and I go still
I tell myself this is because I wish to share this moment
with the wind alone
and not
that I fear their scrutiny
unknown
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: