The wind of solitude still echoes in my mind.

The absence of her own still lingers behind.

A lost opportunity, a chance to be free…

Of those burdens that won’t let me be.

It was on a certain Sunday morning,

a cloudless sky preached above,

Mankind dancing with the pigeons,

Cupid’s arrow in the eyes of ladylove.

Surrounded by a youthful resonance,

flowers and chocolates knew no harm.

Ladylove was her name behind her veil

of mystery nevering revealing alarm.

She grazed the streets into my loft

of fortune and honost and noble ways.

Beautiful like no sunset, her mere

sight drove man to wish for better days.

She gazed into my direction,

and I into her own.

She never said a word,

I said not much more.

Like a cold breeze I shook,

for my desire had been set free.

I let go of the dove,

Who one day may have let me be…

Closed my eyes and

felt my companion once again,

A friend named Wind…

of Solitude.