Windblown Whispers

rushing up from the sea and across the santa monica mountains

dream thoughts

whispers of old roads that went before

whispers of lost love

broken heart scrap metal

whispers of stories told by old men who built the highways

crashing down onto the city dwellers

too deaf and tangled to even hear

whispers of hope that was born just this morning


of bargain basement livelihood repeating lies


of fear of what is yet to come

night winds

strutting down the brick alleys making 4 am headlines


of the end of days or a new one about to be found


of love and lovely lies that love can not resist


of boredom and sleep dreams that go quiet

and the wine that settles when the wind stops and all is quiet

so peaceful and so powerfully quiet


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