Your whispers are gentle echoes
that sway ardent winds of harmony
and in the symphony of life
each word is wrapped in rhapsody.
We travel separate roads of life
gather flowers along the way and
share the music of their fragrance.
We exist between two winds,
I here under a pale moon
you, the other end of somewhere.
Sometimes when wind blows through trees
I pause to listen and in its passing
I hear the tenderness of your voice
that fills the spectrum of my soul.
You are the chime of warm rain,
the moon that glows through the trees
and within the luster of evening
your aura fills the scene.
I hear the whispers of the wind
see the stars shine in the sky,
but I hold the sunrise in my pocket.