Everytime,I go up there quiet high,
I close my eyes,where I can feel the wind,
It is a symphony to my ears,
Like every song you sang to me,
When you were here,
I can feel it on my cheeks,
Touching me softly,like your lips,
But,When it touches my eye,that’s where,
All the flashback starts by,
We are both sitting together,
Me by the window and you sitting by me,
On those travelling times,the trains so fast,
I could feel the wind in my hair,
And I could feel my hair touch your face,
Embarrassed I tied my hair around,
I know you didn’t like them that way,
I could see you looking atΒ me,from the corner of my eye,
When I caught you looking,I could see your face so red,it was so rare,
It said so many things,which you left unsaid,
Now,Each time IΒ  feel the wind,
I know you’re always there,Looking in the same way,
I remember your face so well,
It was so rare to see you blush red,
But,I remember it all clearly in my head.

P.S-This poem is strictly based on imaginations.

20 thoughts on “Wind.

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