I listen for the wind,
predicted to begin
in the early hours
this morning,
awaiting chimes
outside our window
to bear me up
and out of my dreams,
sounding almost real,
their haphazard ring,
a melody no one
could ever sing,
one thing I still can hear,
ever so soft and clear.
If only I could speak
in their lovely tongue,
while waiting
for the wind to come.

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