The description of the wind,
is as elusive as the way it acts.
The attempt to describe the way,
it entangles its fingers through my hair,
or the way it whistles a creepy tune
through the winter tree branches
is quite near impossible to do.
Like trying to describe my love of you.
Accept my answer as this:
The tendrils of wind,
blows and whispers.
A cold comfort on
a sweltering summer day.
It sneaks across your skin,
when you least expect it.
My love is like this.
When we started
we were a soft autumn breeze
moving the leaves to and fro
oh so playfully.
Soon things seemed to grow strong
A cyclone of mixed emotions brewed.
Sorting them was as impossible as
sorting a tornado's temper tantrum.
But unlike the anger of a tornado,
ours is the perfect combination.
It isn't anywhere perfect
but that is what i love best.
Our calm days of soft breezes
into our days where we are
swept up in a hurricane of passions.
