Her
In quiet times when gentle breezes
cause the leaves to stir
I listen to the rustling voices
and dream my dreams of her.
I listen to the branches ask
the breezes how she’s been
And hear the breezes whisper back
the beauty they have seen.
They tell of how her laughter floats
so gently on the air
and how they love to play around
and tug upon her hair.
The trees would tell of joyful times
she’d play among their branches
The leaves would show their happiness
in swirling madcap dances.
They know that I’ve been listening in
as they talk so high above
As I know when they’re back with her
they’ll tell her of my love.
In quiet times, I lay back
and I feel my heart stir
The breezes blow the leaves around
I dream my dreams of her.