Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Voices in the Dark

It comes in a whisper, an easy breeze through mossed trees
Touching down just out of sight.
Little flutters tickle, warning of what is to come
When my heavy heart takes flight.

In one small breath, trying to exhale brings darkness near
While the whisper promises air.
The day wears on with the wind in the trees, still not seen
Is the answer to prayer.

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