The child wind is a spirit, like a fallen leaf
That rolls along towards the earth’s infinity
Riddled with false matter from its past sky.
It is no laughing matter in mom’s hand fan,
Nor in trees shaking with excess sunshine.
Shake trees , will you? asks nostalgic mom,
Her sultry despair climbing hard nut trees
Looking for child of the wind in the leaves.
Actually it is found shaking a polythene bag
In a bedraggled bush, just outside the city.
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