The Wind. Poem by Tyovihi Terwase

The wind breathe through me
it will spin round the photos on my fridge,
leaf through the pages of these books before
I read them

Conversing with wind I have learned
the roundness of my limbs, the hefty weight
of mt sagging waist.

I am fat and weary and the wind
the wind will tell me of the hills gone brown with
time,
the leaves fallen from the trees,
the waters dying on my lips.

The dust lies around my window
like a faithful hound watching over
the mortared yard.
The grass has grown to weeds,
the days to years and the wind
has stuttered and ceased to blow.