At first, only a whisper—
then the wind flew,
tugging the horizon loose,
somewhere else.
Etched in the sky’s blue ink,
showering me with leaves,
listening to the way,
the wind flies.
Just before dawn—
it steals my breath,
tells me to follow,
so I do.
Now I’m chasing,
the ghost of its fingers,
through my hair,
carrying secrets.








The words so beautifully echo the image above. It’s almost as though you wrote the painting. 🧡
Thank you, Willow.
Beautifully penned, Adagio. Amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian.
Perfect words to go with a brilliant illustration. I love it.
Thank you, Sam.