Always knowing how to be all the things I can never get right.
He plays with my hair the way no one else does. He gives me the sweetest kisses in the world, so beautiful they make me almost want to cry.
the Wind kisses the way no one else can.
He can whistle, unlike me, even when I've always wished I could. the Wind sings me to sleep at night when there are too many nightmares and not enough moonlight or cold sheets.
He makes the trees speak, when they've always been so silent before.
the Wind's a tease.
He flips at my hair and the pages of my books, especially when I write about him, like he's embarrassed to be mentioned.
I like that the Wind is shy, like me. How even if he's cold, he's also gentle.
It makes me just the teeniest bit sad that no one will ever love him the way I do.
But maybe it's okay
to keep the Wind
to keep the Wind
all to myself.
