Warm Winds

Seeds sprout in the ground as the ash pale dawn light begins to grow. Summertime brings happiness and life; animals from a far when new adventures arise; allowing warm winds to flow through the cracks of my hands when I reach, extending each limb piece by piece as my heart speaks to the cold, delicious peaks of life. Warm winds are all I have left of your memory. Over the hills, I gaze. In the the widows, I peak. Through the fields, I walk, just hoping those warm winds would bring you back to me.  

Some seeds sprout, but life won’t change those who come before. Flowing through the same ripples of water are the same ones blowing in the sky, drifted by those warm winds. That same wind, warmer than blood, will open up gifts of life into my heart. Seeking peace and pleasure from the memories you left buried underneath our seeds.