I rode into a head wind,
found hills to compete,
took deep breaths and maintained
a distance in a summer day.
I recalled the time she told me,
the winds had changed,
and then I was reminded,
I was yearning,
I was hoping for those days,
when after saying good-bye,
telling me of
Alan Parson’s ‘Time’,
that there again she would return,
and again
she might return,
and once more,
I could count on her return,
like a wind we wait for on a summer day,
soothing and in contrast to
the heat of the afternoon,
the winds return,
and I
would then
remember her once again,
walking in the headwind,
wishing the breeze
might never settle.
again.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
apersonaljourney - stories of love 