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She | Poem

 

She

When she whispers
like the sounds a skirt makes,
the sounds the leaves make,
the sounds the wind makes
early, when the birds sing like
the peaceful sound of the brook

when she speaks
like the rain itself
on the roof,
it's the sound the sunshine makes
in the yard,
the sound the moonlight makes,
the sound of a kind thought,
the sounds the clouds make,
and the sounds the sun makes
setting and rising
 

to David   /   to Moongate
 

 

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