Whisper, whisper.
Goes the wind,
Coming, coming it will
Brushing through your hair,
Meeting with the trees
And combing through their branches,
Leaving with the leaves.
Whisper, whisper.
It slips through an open window,
Calling for the human attention,
Soothing the sleeper’s hair,
Bringing it to life for a few.
Then slipping back out into the night.
Whisper, whisper.
I feel it as I walk.
Caressing my heart on thin strings,
Stealing, my barren soul,
With its breath,
I watch the sky and hear the whispers,
Soothing me and the living things.
Whisper, Whisper.
There is goes again.
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