Windy

 

Windy

By Deborah Sharma

I’ve pondered how it’s funny,
I’m not really into sunny.
I eagerly rush to let loose outside,
Amidst a volatile stormy ride.

I prefer the blanket of cloudy grey,
The sinister weight of a murky day,
No soft fingers of glowing light illuminating,
Give me mysterious darkness exhilarating

Grant me a windswept trip,
Cleansing with a bursting rip,
Whipping away at my tired face,
Thrashing out every dull trace.

Days like this share my miserable mood,
When I feel to indulge my dreary brood,
Wrapped in clouds of sombre bleakness,
Into the wind I unleash my meekness.

Though I step out with an air of downcast ,
I am matched with an atmosphere of overcast,
I present my dark mood to have it flogged,
By evicting wind I’m revived unclogged.

Purifying wind purges the staleness,
Energizing me in my once frailness.
In this blustery battle I thrive,
When I feel refreshingly alive

~ Deborah Sharma

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Sometimes I crave to walk in a gray windy day free from the harsh glare of the Sun.

For me it literally blows away the cobwebs, whether its from taking in more oxygen physically or emotionally being shaken into a revival.