The wind will always be there,

Singing its own song.

Sending whispers through the trees,

And howls during the storms.

It will tossle my hair,

Almost lovingly,

Since it know my future.

Even when cold,

The brittle air against my face reminds me that I am _alive._

When it gets even colder,

The wind will send little snowflakes of bliss towards me,

For me to lick up with my tounge, just like my younger self would.

And then it gets warmer,

And each breeze feels like a warm embrace,

As the seasons start to change.

It holds up the first robin of spring in the sky.

Yes, I find the wind quite beautiful.

A consistant sign,

That life is beautiful,

And I must seize every day.