When the wind blows around outside
it ruffles the leaves in trees
and floats birds in the sky
it pulls the summer air around
and stirs the feelings in my head.
I wish I was better with rhymes
then this poem might sound divine.
I’d rather say how I feel without
the restriction of
19th century nonsense.
If your mind was mine you’d understand
but you wouldn’t understand
because this stuff is hard to understand.
are not simply understood.
They roll with the current in the deep blue
but I’m terrified of large bodies of water.
I may have lost you
but I didn’t mean to.
I apologise for
this wind keeps stirring
everything in circles
but I rarely come full circle in poetry.
I’m a reckless tornado.
I don’t stop
until the wind stops blowing around outside.