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Whispers
October 15, 2013
Hold on
be quiet!
Listen...
The wind rustles through the leaves,
I hear the whispers.
Caught in the brambles of the trees.
One from my mother,
One from my sister,
Several from my father.
Many from my friends.
They're all gone now.
That's life.
See, I had them in my hand,
and the whispers were happening,
in a reality.
Now they're just memories,
Whispers.
But they're there,
the wind likes to play them for me.
If only I could go back....
© Bhuvaneswari R., Sleepy Hollow, NY
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