Above my head the wind just blows <br />strange music to my ears, <br />its tentacles then tease my nose <br />and later there are tears. <br />A raven, flying like the crow <br />direct without detouring <br />its feathers black against the snow <br />its childish cries alluring. <br />I walk because I must succeed <br />in finding the blue flower <br />inside my satchel, grandma's mead <br />has turned and gone off sour. <br />And should you, on your voyage then <br />encounter one whose laughter <br />fills all the valleys, to Cayenne <br />with pink forever after..........................<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich 2<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wanderer-ii/
