Soft breezes lift leaves

As they rustle, hustle, bustle

To the ground.

I smile, like some child

Waiting, watching, wanting.

This warm caress

That touches my face

Leaves me without a trace

Of remorse or depression.

I still wait

Soft breezes lift,

It has always been a gift

That I so treasure.

04/12/2007

Posted on 04/12/2007
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