I'm never very far away,
Yet you will never see me,
Even when I touch your face,
Though maybe only briefly.
 
In lighter mood, I may cavort,
And dance about your feet,
Twirling,  matching, step for step,
As you walk down the street.
 
On days that I am angry,
You'll be the first to know it,
For I can be quite vocal then,
Not hesitant to show it.
 
You may get tired and go inside,
And even slam the door,
But I am patient, and I'll wait,
'Till you come out once more.
 
Sometimes I can be frightening,
But mostly I'm your friend,
Invisible but always there,
For I am called the Wind.
 
 ©  2004   Loree (Mason) O’Neil

*Poetry used with written permission.*
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