My Friend Ellie
By Corey Jensen
The Wind is my friend.
Her name is Ellie.
We’ve been friends forever.
She plays with my hair,
weaving in and out,
a gentle caress.
That’s how I know she likes me.
She tells me things;
things I shouldn’t know,
secrets.
She whispers them;
whispers them in my ear.
Sometimes she gets angry.
She shrieks and yells,
her screams are icy.
They hurt my ears.
On those days I run,
hiding inside,
her shrieks pound on the door.
“Let me in,” she yells.
I don’t .
Instead I cry.
I hate when she runs away.
She goes missing for days.
The hot, heavy air is…
the only note she leaves.
Every day I hope she’ll come back.
When she arrives
she tells me stories;
stories of her travels.
I love her.
I love her voice.
I love her touch.
Ellie’s misunderstood.
They call her the wind,
I know better.
Ellie’s my friend.
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