where does the wind go;
running;
breezing time
through the annuals
of our lives?
where does the wind go;
running and blowing
snow flake dreams—
passing through
the sieves of our lives?
where does the wind go;
running—moving
slow as a snail; then fast
as mercury’s winged feet?
indeed, where does the wind go;
running…running…gone;
and when gone running
we are left alone
with wind ballooned memories…?