Strangers

Strangers I have known,
Walking through empty streets alone.
Wrapped in darkness
Like an old and quiet friend,
With crooked branches
Swinging at each bend
And beckoned by the call of wind,
We wove our way together.

"And how did you know these
Strangers?" You will ask,
"For a stranger is never known..

Unless I were curled in their overcoats
Overgrown with unfinished thoughts.
For a thought to be finished,
It must lengthen a hand
To more than just the wind,
Whose wistless breath only trembles
Shivering leaves,
And steaming nostrils
Breathing towards a means,
But not an end.