By Gala
Date: 25 January 2001
Wind Song
You whisper my name
half to yourself and the chord it strikes
is the chime of a Shinto shrine
hung high in a tree papered with prayers.
Between us the time slips away
and all too soon I am taking my leave
and only your kiss can sweeten the regret
which strikes at the heart
like the pure impossible chord
of an old violin played in the hand of a master.
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