Where the wind forgets to carry you (Marcella Boccia)
There is a place where the wind forgets to carry you,
where the silence of the air speaks louder than breath,
and the world stands still,
holding its secret in the curve of a forgotten sky.
Here, the earth whispers your name,
not in the language of the living,
but in the quiet murmur of the past,
where time folds its wings
and dreams no longer wander.
The wind once sang your presence to me,
a song woven from the thread of moments we shared,
but now, it carries only the scent of absence,
and the weight of words left unsaid.
Oh, love, do you hear it too?
The silence that blooms between us,
like a flower that never opens,
its petals closed to the touch of time.
In the place where the wind forgets to carry you,
I search for your shadow—
not in the places we once walked,
but in the spaces where silence wraps itself around me,
and I wait for the winds to remember.
For even here, where the world moves on,
there is a stillness that holds us,
a love that cannot fade,
for it is written in the very air,
where the wind forgets to carry you,
but never forgets to carry me.
