The Wandering Breeze
A fleeting memory that sustains.
The breeze flows soft through fields of gold,
A story ancient, yet untold.
It brushes past the trees, the grass,
Whispering secrets as it passes.
It wanders far from sea to land,
A quiet touch, a gentle hand.
It carries with it scents of spring,
And all the joy that life can bring.
The breeze is free, it knows no chains,
It roams through sunshine, storms, and rains.
And though it’s gone, its touch remains,
A fleeting memory that sustains.
About the Creator
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The Devil's Triangle
The sails ruffled in the breeze as we cruised along. The Sea Breeze was a mid-size catamaran that sailed out of Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda. We had booked this trip weeks in advance and were now looking at our Captain, Spike and two boat hands. Paddy and Wilson seemed like nice guys, joking around with the passengers and telling us some stories about Bermuda that only locals would know. Their island accents sounded almost British but they were pleasant to listen to.
By Barbara Gode Wilesa day ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
The best
keep the fire burning
I love it
Congratulations, good work
AS the breeze blows away your issues and problems as your poem is one great piece of writing.
I love how you described the breeze and the peace it brings with it♥︎ Wonderful poem.