Weeping Wind

Weeping Wind

faded brown spots on the cold stone below

are what remains from the wind expressing its woe
its delicate fingers would trace the remains
of the shutterless eyes from the shattered black panes
where once crimson drops fell from the slits in her skin
it still sighs o’er the absence of you from within
through the years dust has settled

the lawn sickened by thorns
‘til her master’s return
through this mansion
it mourns.


photo by Felix Pergande

poem by Ramsy

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