poetry: This Breeze

I will probably edit and rework this poem as it’s not great and it may seem odd that I would want to post it before doing that. I like to post these poems about grief/my Dad straight away because I tend to write them when I’m feeling the raw emotion and so I guess they feel more…real, as they are, unedited. It’s nice to have a record of that.

This Breeze

It’s too still,

Life without this breeze.

A force, an energy

Sweeping through; invigorating.


Fiercely, it filled and billowed,

Sending onwards,

To homelands of dreams

And treasure islands.


But now, it’s still,

Same world static,

Rustling in another dimension,

A force now from within.

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