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Thomas Noel Smith

The Song of the Wind

Have you heard the wind blow
Through the leaves of tress
That sway and bend
In reverence to the wind?

Have you heard the lonely song
Of the wind
As it searches the world
Looking for its love?

Oh, the song of the wind,
A melancholy dirge,
Singing in time
To the funeral march
Of a forgotten soul

And the song of the wind
Howls mournfully...
The song of a heart that is breaking
And can no longer live

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I Have Watched With Awe

I have watched with awe
As the sun slowly sinks
Beyond the distant western fields
And I’ve wondered
What’s it like-
The place where the sun goes to bed?

Are there guardians there
Who guide his descent
To his nighttime rest?

What a job it must be
To see the sun safely at rest

Who awakens the sun
Each day
And makes sure
He rises on time?
Who are they
Who bid him to have a good day?

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Why Can't I Be More Like My Cat?

Rhubarb, my soft orange cat
Lies sleeping on the bed
His head curled tight
Against his chest
His tail twitches slowly
To a rhythm only he can hear.
Why can’t I be more like my cat?

He sleeps deeply, peacefully.
He doesn’t worry about today
Or tomorrow
He never stares in the mirror
To see how he looks.
He is what he is.
Does my cat know I envy him
In his approach to life
In his view of life-
To be who you are
And not concerned
How others see you?

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Simple Days of Innocence

They talked about the ice cream man
And they waited just for him
And from their homes fast they ran
For the tinkling bells that called to them

Together they laughed on autumn nights
As hand-in-hand they walked
Down city streets past flickering lights
And of old memories they fondly talked

The sound of bells no longer rise.
Yet they smiled on moonless nights
As lightening bugs flew past their eyes
To dance ballets of mystic lights

“Ghosts” they said, “of old lamplighters
Who’ve come to light our way.”

But innocence lost with childhood dreams
Of loving warmth and songs

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