The Wind Calls

The wind calls me to the far westward shore
Where water murmurs on the sand and the waves ceaselessly roar.
Memories tickle the part that’s been closed away, unwanted shadows in the bright sun, they whisper in the warm breeze. The smell of salt hangs heavy by the wind bent trees.
Those were the days of what could be, between the brown hills and that shining sea,
The celestial light of lives burning bright, knowing joy, knowing fear but always with eyes open to the beauty so near. Music and laughter, love and joy, they were children and the world their toy.
Those days were precious rimmed in life’s light now as far away as a sun deep in the night.
Fate and foolishness doomed the story writ in that warm sun kissed land
And the music was silenced
Please, Please, strike up the band.
I now sit here far away from that warm land by the deep blue sea.
But I can still smell the salt carried on that warm sun kissed breeze.