I have a friend you cannot see,
Who races through the grass with me.
He lifts my kite up to the sky,
And waves the clouds as they go by.
He whispers secrets to the trees,
And cools my face with gentle breeze.
He spins the leaves in autumn gold,
And tells me stories never old.
In spring he brings the smell of rain,
And taps upon my windowpane.
He shakes the flowers, soft and sweet,
And tickles grass beneath my feet.
In summer, when the day is hot,
He finds me in my favorite spot.
He flaps the pages of my book,
And cools the lemonade I took.
In winter he can howl and play,
And chase the snowflakes all the day.
He draws white patterns on the glass,
Then bows and lets the storm clouds pass.
My best friend wind, so wild and free,
Is always there to play with me.
I cannot hold him in my hand,
But still I know and understand.
He has no face, he has no name,
Yet every day he plays our game.
He tugs my coat, he lifts my hair,
He shows me he is always there.
So when you feel a sudden breeze,
And hear it singing through the trees,
Say hello and wave up high—
My windy friend is passing by.
And if at night you cannot sleep,
And quiet feels too dark and deep,
Listen close—the wind may say,
“Rest now, friend. I will stay.”
