The Wind – by Josh Vogt

Whistled wistfully through the top of the tower,

Cold and full of flurries

Around me, lonely. The wind made no judgements.

It ferried fragrances through the air,

Whistled wistfully through the top of the tower.

It would not wait.

It whipped my wool coat about me,

Roared through my ear drums. I looked over the edge

And whistled wistfully through the top of the tower.

The wind shot swiftly, full of fury,

Keen to send me over the edge. It knew what I’d done.

The wind cared not for accidents.

It whistled wistfully through the top of the tower,

Wafted up that iron-red scent.

At the railing,

All I could see was darkness.

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