The Wind

The wind dances on my cheek
I can't help but notice how its sole purpose seems to be to guide the tears away.

"Where have you been, wind?"

I can't help but ponder.

The very wind that lovingly dries the evidence of pain, has seen so much.

Perhaps a death, perhaps a life. Friends coming together and lovers falling apart.

"What have you carried, wind?"

That same wind the man notices on an idle Tuesday grocery run, dances in and out the ringlets of my messy red hair.

The wind is free to roam, yet in this moment its chosen me.

"Take me with you, wind"

For I have more deaths to mourn, births to rejoice, and idle Tuesdays to exist in.