Roar

Howling, terrifying screech
Of wind through corners of the soul,
Around buildings,
Whistling like a demented banshee,
Crying out for the world to stop.

Words are whispered,
Hushed feeling glow and linger,
The fire needs kindling,
And so do we.

The stars ignite,
A dream takes its leave,
The hours slide into shadows,
At least the wind has died down.