Ill Wind
The wind told me you’re leaving today
With voice so harsh it laid trees bare
Again he said you’re leaving today
Hissed through the vines his ill tidings
You can’t leave today my love
Not when the bougainvilleas frolic
Oh no, not today my love
Not with orchids in festive glee
Even in the morrow you cannot go
For the fruits will be in harvest then
Oh no, not in the morrow you cannot go
For the arid sod awaits your benediction
The wind told me you’re leaving today
Absurd! I said to this malignant tattle
The wind insisted that you’re leaving today
Ill wind begone, was my incensed outcry
poem by Eddie Roa
Added by Poetry Lover
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