Number Forty Two, October 18th, 2012

The Sound Of the Wind

There's a post covered with flowers on the roadside
Marking the place where someone has died
And the leaves blow around
And the story whispers in the sound
Of the wind

There are two names carved inside a heart
In the bus stop bench in front of the mini mart
And the leaves blow around
And the story whispers in the sound
Of the wind

There's a broken down windmill out in the trees
And a farmhouse in ruins and the ghost of memories
And the leaves blow around
And the story whispers in the sound
Of the wind

We live in a world of heartaches and glories
Safe and high In our observatories
Listen
To the world spin
Around our untold stories

Then shake us from our silent perch
And shed the lie so well rehearsed
As the leaves blow around
And we rise to the sound
Of the wind