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The Wind

Wild horses run untamed for miles and for once I feel the breeze on my face.

Hitchhikers may be escaping and this pain is an inmate.

I inherited the constant thoughts

Speak your truth,

even stumble on a word or two.

I came to see the damage, but instead found a woman who spoke to me about love.

And just as the wind ceased, I was given all these words.

Now I am sitting by the window waiting for the rain to prevail.

The breeze slaps my face in return,

and for miles my soul untamed.

Andrea dC. Mendoza


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