Tonight the wind blew so hard,
all the worries collapsed on my back,
as a part of the cold ruins, you did too.
I don't know your name,
as I didn't know it then,
forgotten name, as always.
You came with the night,
just pouring around everyone and everything.
I was not an exception.
I was just one of the many who were slayed by you.
Slayer, is that your name?
And then, the charming arrow was thrown at me,
and like everyone expected except myself,
I fell, a poor victim, slayed by the wind.
The moment of the truth:
the flowers of love were already withered,
there was no sun nor rain to make them live,
but the damn wind came around,
and poured himself over the flowers,
raining and shining, watering a lie, lighting a betrayal.
The wind seemed so warm and friendly,
all the flowers grew again,
the smell of happiness walked through the dreamed meadow,
all the nature woke up and welcomed the new day.
But as he came, he simply left.
The flowers were doomed to repeat the withering,
a painful death, raped by coldness and darkness.
But I remember the visit,
just as it was yesterday.
A visit of the wind Slayer,
that pretended to be Spring,
but was Autumn.
Summer.
Where is summer?
A kiss to remember:
Long time ago,
when all the flowers enjoyed the touch of his warmth,
when the sun he brought lit their leaves with passion,
when the rain washed all the hurt from the meadow,
then, when the nature sang the song of a dream,
a dream that turned into a beautiful flower.
But then, the true face was shown:
Autumn came and stayed.
Soon followed winter.
He was already long gone.
But I will always remember:
the life Spring pretended to give,
the love Summer accidentaly provoked,
the visit of the Slayer,
the kiss of nature.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...