The wind in the morning
It messes my hairs
My reflection I see
And my heart, it despairs.
All of that time
To get it just right
Then downhill I walk
And the whole lot takes flight.
But then in the arvo
When the ole whistle blows
Things start to look up
Cause it’s time to go home.
‘No place to be!’
My heart shouts it with glee!
My fingies are wiggly
‘It’s time to be free!’
So out of the doors
I victoriously strut
My joy for the wind
Is no longer shut.
Like the fingers of love
That’s just out of reach
The wind plays with my hairs
And kisses my cheeks.
It’s then I remember
That I always love wind
But the standards for work
I would surely rescind.
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