Daily, RocknRoll

Whistling Winds

by TBird

photo: retrorags.com

Whistling winds rustle through windows wisdom has flung open.  Let the air fly through, its whistle rattling high and feverish.  It will die down, that screaming through the night like a locomotive.  Eventually, it passes and subsides, fading into a faint melody of memories in its sounds.  Wind settles, tide goes out, this too shall pass.  The memory only a faint and lingering taste.  The road continues.  Hold on.

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Saturday
13
August 2011

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