The kiss of a wind,
The whiff of the oncoming storm,
Let me breathe and tell you a story in a whisper;
So as not to wake the sleeping bird.
A story about the temptation to get carried away.
Slowly and steadily in your arms.
To be flung to the far off place;
Devoid of the pain, suffering and the familiar faces
To the fallow lands strewn with the stubble.
Let me till the parched land;
For the fruit of life will sprout once again;
From the womb of the mother earth
But not to be burnt away in the summer of life.