Disturbed Duet

She would listen
to the wind whistle
through the ravine;
a soulful tune
if a little melancholy.

It sang of heartbreak,
all encompassing

She knew the words.
Verse upon verse
pressed with pain
they dripped
from her tongue

Each night
they perform
like long-lost lovers
pining across oceans
ripping flesh apart
in desperation.

Most only hear
weather wailing
hearts unable
to comprehend
the aching melody
surrounding them.

I hear. I feel.
I hurt. I weep.
Their sombre ballad
is not lost
on me.
Every tear
falls for them.

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Wendy Pratt

Poet, Author, Editor, Facilitator

Inking Prose & Poetry

The Art of Prose and Poetry

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