Poetry

The wind sighs softly through the trees,
Carrying tales with silent pleas.
It speaks of love that’s come and gone,
Of broken hearts and dreams withdrawn.

Whispers drift through the fading light,
Echoes of sorrow in the night.
A voice once strong, now frail and thin,
Lost in the breeze, the wind’s soft spin.

Once we stood beneath this sky,
Where hopes were born, and dreams could fly,
But now those dreams are just a shade,
Fading with the memories we’ve made.

The wind whispers, mournful, profound,
Of promises we could not keep.
It tells the stories of lost time,
Where love once bloomed now turns to rhyme.

Each gust a cry from distant years,
Carrying away our forgotten fears.
In every whisper, there’s a tear,
A memory that lingers near.

So when the wind begins to call,
Could you listen close to the mournful thrall?
For in its song, you’ll hear the sound,
Of broken hearts that can’t be found.