It comes against the cheek with the softness of velvet
It rushes through the air as feathers caught in the wind
It sends the message clear, I love you
A painter's stroke upon the canvas
The lightness of the sun as it streams through the
Can you see it, can you touch it
Can you hear it, yes as wind through the trees, the
rustle of the grass
Whispers, Whispers, Whispers

by Carol E. Doering

Other poems of CAROL E. DOERING (2)

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