The Wind


The mild southern winter wind
Caresses
Over the mouldy stonework
Morasses
Drying out the dampness of the monsoon
Rains
Easing the stings and aches of the new age
Pains
Stamped into the mind, systematic thoughts
Strung like chains
Locked and tied across the eyes
Hiding the heart
Bruised and torn apart
By a cutting edge that burns like ice,
Rustling through the trees as the lady
Undresses
Beyond the branches, a tempting view,
Before it digresses.

Rome 31 12 2009