If you’ve read the most recent contributions, you’ll be aware that some of us are also running a ‘let’s get rid of a lot of stuff around here’ campaign. Well, I aim to please (Ha! says Shirlene); therefore, I will offer up a poem that I wrote in the mid-sixties. Marvelous! I’m killing two birds with one stone – I’m writing something for the blog, and I’m getting rid of ‘old stuff’, and you get to read something written by a well-meaning teenager who aspired to be a writer. Sorry about that.
The trees bow down to the Lord of the Winds,
To the Lord of the Winds they pray,
For they fear death and broken limbs
And the Lord of the Winds can slay.
Who will dance with me?
Who will sing for me?
Who will come and play?
The dust awaits the Lord of the Winds
In lowly halls of grey,
For the Lord of the Winds gives life to the dust
And the dust can fly away.
Who will dance with me?
Who will sing for me?
Who will come and play?
The River knows the Lord of the Winds
For equal souls are they.
As they embrace, the waters race
And all is wild and free.
I will dance with you.
I will sing for you.
I will come and play.
(Megan)