Wind

The wind has odd calmness,
As if the air has been drugged,
And is devoid of it senses.
Unusual mystery in the breeze,
Gathering around the curtains,
Disturbing the dead leaves.
It smells of fright,
It seems dead in its own way,
What treacherous night.
It was never so dramatic,
Never so vicious.
Odd numbness of a frantic.
Sky is partially clouded,
So is the reason,
Every smile I see looks eluded
Am I the only to feel the dread?
Or its my mind playing tricks,
Wishing ignorance, I wish to fade.
May this conspiring wind,
Take my ashes away
Where I am no one's find.