woodwind
Alexandres Mize
There is a sound that haunts me
when I stand still;
a woodwind whisper that weaves
where the wisteria sways.
It finds me in moments of silence,
asking my white silk sleeves to dance,
tempting them to turn to wings.
How solacing a song.
Perhaps this is the night
I shall fly with the wind
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Fotografía: Miriam Barrón