Oh winds of change why must you blow
and come roaring in like a hurricane
blowing my comfortable life to and fro
left in your wake, everything’s changed
And yet, the unknown is always there
or so say the stoics of centuries past
for comfort is but an illusion we wear
and life is never meant to endure or last
So Blow, changing winds Blow, Blow, Blow!
And in the end my weathered soul soars free
to explore other cosmos never known
floating on a breeze with gossamer wings
dVerse Poets Pub: MTB O Apostrophe!