Gust

 

Ethereal force without form

You know the way of my heart

You turned my head against destined sights

and gestured toward the sheltered old town

Subtly pressed me down narrow alleys

And carried me over cobblestone streets

Laced with the fragrance of toasted almonds 

and cinnamon swirls

A gentle gust and I was there

twenty years ago

Contemplating the future

which is now the past

With you.

7 thoughts on “Gust

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