Poem of the Week / Selina Moses

Whisper

 

Wind whistles through the trees

Blowing hair off my face

Leaves dancing in the commanding breeze

Like puppets on a playful string.

Blowing hair off my face

Like a mother’s touch

Like puppets on a playful string

Performing to an invisible crowd.

Like a mother’s touch

I whisper into the hollow of the oak

Hoping for an invisible crowd

To listen to my song.

I look inside the hollow of the oak

Inquisitive eyes look back at me

Would you listen to my song?

I turn my gaze up to the owl up in his den. Would he?

Selina Moses

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2 thoughts on “Whisper

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