The Wind  
by James Lynch Bridson


When the warm wind blows in my face,
I love it so much.
Sometimes the breeze teases my toes and tickles my tummy,
Like it had promised to many years ago.

But then bang, crash, rumble:
Rocks fall from the sky;
A flash of lightening,
And a groan of thunder.

But of course the wind is still there,
Like it will be forever.

From The Early Poetry of James Lynch Bridson edited by No-one,
but with Copyright © 2009 asserted by James Lynch Bridson