PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Standing in the wind tasting the 
air as it rushes past me, I am 

surprised that the sound of life 
has not generated more excitement. 

Trees glow with their own power 
and the leaves of summer burn 

brightly green through my mind. 
I wonder about the looping branches 

of an ordinary life. Sustained by hope, 
I imagine the being out of doors for 

the remainder of my life. The bustling 
grass inviting me to lie down and enjoy 

the patterns of nature as it rumbles 
through the day. I find myself in the 

midst of something I will not understand. 
There seem to be rumours and false 

information floating around my thoughts. 
I take a drag of my cigarette, and as I do 

it starts to gently rain. I continue to stand 
in it, getting wet. After so much nothing 

I hear something is going to happen and 
I know it might possibly affect me. I know 

that whispered voices always mean mystery 
and finally with anticipation I shut myself 

away from the sound of dissension. I am 
only here, with little chance of renewal.