The wind is blowing,
twisting my thoughts around in my head
as I want, am wont to flee;
have already fled.
The trees are screaming,
crying in apathy, silent in dread:
I’m afraid of leading,
and of where I am being led.
I walk to you, talking
through the chaotic confusion,
your memory bright, a translucent illusion.
I ramble on nightly this path of seclusion,
with the wind
and the trees
and the banshees
all singing
“Stranger, companion, intrusion, intrusion! ”
as I’m swept along in this blinding delusion.
Zoe Nyght
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/banshee-song/
