July 19, 2013


You aren't quite
talking to yourself,
not being here
so very long.
When you whisper
in the wind, 
your old friends 
might hear you wrong.

We heard you
coming up the hill,
speaking softly,
talking blind. 
Now we see
that you've arrived,
we're still hoping
you won't mind.

Some have
heard it all before,
the years long since 
have passed us by;
old voices carry
on the wind, no one 
knows the reason why.