The Wind In My Sails Poem by M. A Heathcote

The wind can climb a flight of stairs.
And leap over a mountain range.
In a single breath, it can cross an ocean.
Or take a respite like a damselfly in my hand.

But when it flows through your satin dress,
Your silky nightclothes, your hair,
It touches my soul like a nightingale.
And it rests becalmed like an old rocking chair.

Where the hearth in its cinders still
Glows in the moonlight, ready to suddenly flare
It's here; there is a hope, a wish to hold.
Your hand and to dance beneath the starlight.

It's here I want to watch the sunrise.
And gaze into your eyes.
A thousand more times without sleep;
And here I want to pivot into the mystery that is you.

Holding close a scented pillow,
I never knew that at that time it could echo.
My thoughts and feelings. I never really knew.
The wind in my sails could taste this sweet.