Day's reign bows once more to dusk.
Within it's submission,
a subtle wind caresses, comforts my solitude,
as an old friend.

Whispering echoes of memories.
The horizon claims the last flicker of day.
A stillness, not unknown,
greets me this eve.

This is the night of the riderless horse.
Unbridled defiance afoot.
It's cry, harmonious amidst the wind.
Thunder be it's mane.

The wind laments it's long, lonely wail,
as if to bid farewell.
To one whose chased it's endless breath.
To one it knew quite well.

To the Heavens I raise my head and pray,
may, this wind fill the wings of your soul.
Whispering echoes of memories,
'til, for me, it blows.


© 2000 Laurence P. Scerri (The Ironhorse Writer) (All rights reserved)
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