The winds of change are in my head,

They whisper truths I’ve left unsaid.

Moments cherished, etched in gold,

Others fading, growing old.

I sift through time with tender care,

Some memories I choose to wear-

Like warm coats in winter’s chill,

They comfort me, they always will.

But others, heavy, worn and frayed,

Are swept away, no need to stay.

The winds of change, they rise and spin,

Clearing space for light within.

A breath of hope, a silent song,

That tells me where my heart belongs.

Not trapped in echoes of the past,

But sailing forward, free at last.

A Poem By Peter A. Moscovita
Books By Peter. LLC
All rights and copyright @ Peter A. Moscovita
Date: August 30th .2025