Conversations with the wind

I feel the wind in my hair,

Pushing violently as if to protest.

"Hush" it seems to say

But I have not yet cried for the day.

Perhaps it cannot see the bones under my tattered coat.

If it could, it would understand how hunger tends to gloat.

"One last dance

One last chance"

The wind sings a song of madness,

Mocking my tone of sadness.

A push

And I'm off the ledge.

We swirl

And I'm forced to dance.

I fight

And I've my lost my strength.

The wind howls

How dare it rebuke me?

I howl

I'm hungry, can't you see?

I'm cold, can't you feel?

I'm alone...

I'm tired...

The wind stills

I feel the warmth of the sun on my clammy skin.

A last gift.

"Let's fly little bird"

And together we fall.