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Songs of Whispers
As the last leaf falls
And the sun goes to sleep
The trees start dancing
To the silent wind
Looking as though they're dolls
From an ancient music box
They listen for her
In the crisp, bleak night
As they wait to be blithe again
Taking her last step
From looking for something
That never really existed
The wind blows anxiously
Then is hushed by her breath
The earth lay silent
For time has been paused
From its repetitious story
Easing the aggravated souls
Lifting her head, revealing wounded wings
She then sings a song of many whispers
 Noir Pleu · Thu Nov 25, 2004 @ 09:33pm · 0 Comments |
