my dearest friend viento,
slyly, he ventured off into the rain —
ergo, his valiant heart breezes
far across strange terrains.

he carries stories — sweet, sour —
of foreign lands, fair ladies and lads,
their fortitude, their serenity —
serendipitous are his yarns.

belongs neither here, nor there —
his life, a quintessence of lyre.
with him he brings glee and elation —
fuels around him, souls with fire.

i smile as he arrives —
for with him, he brings life.
he brings comfort, he brings home,
he brings memories of every kind.

and through him, his life,
the whole world, i shall glimpse.
his hand guides me through —
i hear stories and their wins.

my dearest friend viento,
he ventures, he roams, never quiet.
never at ease, never idle
but when with me, he’s all mine,

but is he really, just mine?
viento, my friend,
are you really here?