Analysis of I Hear It

With a sweet, silver sound,
the wind calls all around,
a ghost of a person, gone and lost,
laughing at those who are naïve to cost.

The breeze sends hearts aflutter
with its breath it will mutter,
“come to me, follow me,
come to where you want to be.”

The honeyed smell of humid air
come to those who stop and stare,
when the weak equal the strong,
the wind whispers, “you were wrong.”

Who can hear it, the gentle voice?
Would we if we had the choice?
It swirls around us and no one hears
the quiet sound of the world’s tears.