A gust of wind enters from the crack in the window and tickles my neck.
I close my eyes and remember days of laying about, feeling the breeze
envelop my body;
Wishing that wind had hands,
had a body,
a soul;
envelop my body;
Wishing that wind had hands,
had a body,
a soul;
Wishing that breeze were not just a breeze, but a person...
A person to hold me, caress me gently, play with my hair, and
flirt with the idea of removing my clothes.
A person to love,
a person to belong to.
But, alas, this breeze is just a change in atmospheric pressure that has now ceased.
Again, I’m in the classroom, alone in my hard chair.
A room full of people,
none of whom are my person.
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| Northern Winds © Ana M. Fores Tamayo |
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