Breeze

Breeze
Is tired after a day's work of moving past vehicles and annoyingly flipping newspaper pages of men in suits to prove its existence
So it stopped and did what it like best

Moving through the sliding young girl's happy hair dancing down the slide
Pushing & teasing little hydrogens bumping each other in red balloons
Playing catch with the wagging tongue of the dog out the car window
And hugging the old widow sitting alone in the fading garden

And after the long day's gone
It turns back into wind, sweeps clean the streets of its dead leaves
Terrorises the dark, closes the windows of forgetful minds
and lulls little children to sleep
with its gentle lullaby.