The Cradle Of Winds

Contemplate the torn leaves yellow
So softly falling like the tiny suns.
And shadows , dancing on the water,
And bare trees’ crowns, raised like hands.
The mountain stream like lace of maid hairs
And cages of the web, embraced the stones,
The purple shells on transparent bottom,
And mirror of sands on the endless shores.
Which are in arms of autumn’s breathing.
Winds that can’t find their home on Earth.
They never stop their blind romantic travel,
And never die for they just had no birth.
They show their maps with ripple on the water,
When coming over it and whispering aloud.
They grab the bird, that falls from reef top
And play sometimes, and hide behind the clouds.
They flutter your hair, tasting your voice,
Take warm of yours with them and run away
To keep it as far as they can go.
They grieve like we, but thousand times a day.
Gather our thoughts and shiver sometimes.
But life of us for them is like the wine.
When they release and come up to much higher,
They find the lodge in bed of sunshine.

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