At times I sense a whistle
As it rides upon the wind
There silent as the thistle
While it begs, “please let me in”.
When the moment seems to die
And the quiet does not bend
All the world whispers “goodbye”
And each friendship must now end !
At times I sense a whistle
As it rides upon the wind
There silent as the thistle
While it begs, “please let me in”.
When the moment seems to die
And the quiet does not bend
All the world whispers “goodbye”
And each friendship must now end !
© Claire V. Bogdanos and Clairebogdanos.net 2013.
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