When winds blow cold,
And rains wet grounds and soul,
It’s time to find smiles elsewhere,
Not to be gloom!
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When Winds Blow Cold So it is when one ventures out To the real world that is about And finds that there is reason to be HERE, and still be me. Every waking day The same words come into play But the poet in us all Can rearrange them at our call. Which permits those winds of yesteryear To bring memories which we should not fear For they are the windows to the soul That make the winds blow hot, not cold. s
yes i agree, the poet's world is a beautiful world, it is sensitive, soft, private, romantic, transparent and many a times impervious as well.let us leave the poets in their own beautiful world.cheers.thanx