Lost in the Winds

Come with me.

Come, and

Count the things that are lost in the winds.

Names taken from pockets,

Stolen from the bottom of unwilling throats,

Deep inside hearts.

A name is a secret.

Umbrellas turned upside-down,

Topsy-turvy of every color.

Like overturned cupcakes,

Playing at being at ballerinas.

The voices you’ve heard in your thoughts all these years,

A favourite quote cradled to your heartbeat,

Snatches of different languages,

Lingering on the outside of your mouth.

Look, over there:

Plucked dreams carried off,

Waking up to find

A small hole in your heart.

Do you taste bitterness?

Greedy hands scoop up

Those things you never did know and now

Never will.

Come with me.

Come, and

Count the things that are lost in the winds.

You will find,

It is not so easy.

• poem
• poetry
• thoughts