Raging winds over the mountain peaks,
Silent spirits no words do they speak.
They come, spiral curve round and round,
Shoeless feet never touching ground.
Reaching, touching, so still when they meet,
And I? There is no chance of retreat
I try to avoid their lifeless gaze,
Trapped inside this eternal maze.
The mountains, they’re captive forever,
Some lost love, some searched for treasure.
No rhyme nor reason their tales to be told,
Lost memories, lost past, lost souls.
© Cynthia Clark