as silent as the wind..but there is no wind

Sometimes a thought creeps into my head - we adore a certain kind of sadness, that comes along with a rainy day and greyness. A fog, that sneaks up to our windows, gets into our lungs and makes our hearts as silent as the wind..but there is none .
I read your diaries, wondering about that man, who still remembers his youth. Or is it? It could be just stories, that come to us just like first spring butterflies or last automn leaves falling, when we hurry through the park to reach our destination.