Desert wind, blow
stronger, faster, harder.
Blow the roof off,
rattle the windows,
shake the foundation,
sweep my hat away.
Wild winds of Mexico
can peel the paint off stucco walls
yet lulls me to sleep with its howls
like coyotes yipping at the moon.
Coastal breeze, blow
caress my dreams
and softly tussle my hair.
Hard to believe these two winds
are exactly the same.
I am more like wind than fire.
I would rather play than take revenge.
It depends, it depends
who you are to me
as to which wind will blow.
With Love,
Frida
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