I'm never very far away,

Yet you will never see me,

Even when I touch your face,

Though maybe only briefly.


In lighter mood, I may cavort,

And dance about your feet,

Twirling,  matching, step for step,

As you walk down the street.


On days that I am angry,

You'll be the first to know it,

For I can be quite vocal then,

Not hesitant to show it.


You may get tired and go inside,

And even slam the door,

But I am patient, and I'll wait,

'Till you come out once more.


Sometimes I can be frightening,

But mostly I'm your friend,

Invisible but always there,

For I am called the Wind.


 ©  2004   Loree (Mason) O’Neil


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