One night as I sat by my window the leaves were rustling wild
I heard the wind whispering secrets I strained to hear like a child
and the wind did whisper a story of a man who was taken away
and locked behind doors of a prison ominous in battleship grey
They call him political prisoner for reasons not quite understood
They wait for the storm to pass over but waiting will do them no good
For the wind will carry his story to the free wherever they stand
and the storm shall gather it’s glory a thunderous voice o’er the land
He misses his wife and his children but convictions hold rein on his tears
He thinks of the girl that he married his partner for so many years
At night he longs to hold her while gently stroking her hair
He awakes and senses her presence but he knows that she’s not really there
At home she has lighted a candle surrounded by thistles of pine
somberly washing the linen and hanging it out on the line
invisible walls surround her creating insatiable yearn
Her cause is as equally noble awaiting her husband’s return
Friends shall rally his freedom gathering strength and support
They faithfully tie yellow ribbons and symbols of similar sort
At night the wind will whisper of a man who was taken today
We cry for his personal freedom lest ours be taken away
Jeannie Hinck   (c) 1982
Published by: Cape Rock Publishing
Capetown Records

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