whimsical

I'm whispering into wind
but only hollow whistles are returned
I stand, grinning at the thought
of the maybes
the whimsical idea swirls within

I long to grasp it for a moment
if only to shake some sense
into me
but I can't seem to muster
the will to try and stop
the pretty thoughts

if that's all that it is,
if it doesn't transform itself to being,
I can live with that...
but the very possibility of
maybe
is enough to make me smile