The Wind Always Blows On.

Foreword: I wrote this piece in the early hours of the morning. 01:50 to be exact. Another disturbed night with shooting pains in my limbs, hands, wherever they please it would seem. The regular pins and needles that accompany me  at the moment are becoming a familiar foe. I started to think how quickly your world around you can change. Mine certainly has. I started to think about losing my mum to Dementia back in the year 2001. The deathly silence of my house in the early hours only being disturbed by the wind outside resulted in me writing about how I feel now. Not having a mother to talk to. It resonated with me when I think about the amount of people who have lost loved ones before their time in this current pandemic. Not the cheeriest of subject matters I know. But for life to be acknowledged, death has to be too.

I sit here alone In the silence of this room Hands of time tick by Take my mind back to you..

Winds of time outside the pane blow Whisk and scatter the memories again Once stored away Deep below..

The wind it screams Don't you dare forget her Grabs me by the seams, shakes Bids me warning, celebrate the fact that you knew her..

You've spent remaining days of life Wondering why.. The cruelness of her taking The highest bidder it seemed, her life to buy..

That's what one side of the mind Would have me believe No sense to it all Why you had to leave..

For if times hands hadn't stopped Ground to a halt for you then When would it have been? If not then? Then when?

For outside the pane The wind always blows on There'll always be death in this world But yours was too soon Yours was so wrong.. (©) Dom Giddy 2020