For anyone who have lost someone dear to them.
Image via Wikipedia
The music whispers softly in my ear.
Reminding me of times I hold so dear.
The melodies are playing, like feathers on a drum.
Whisper to me softly, of all the joy to come.
The violins and bass, their bows pulled gently by.
So beautiful and pure, I can not help to cry.
As the tears, roll gently down my cheek, Some one stops to say.
“Is there something I can do?” “No I’ll be O.K.”
It seems I have a problem, with these whispers that I hear.
No-one else can hear them, It’s like they just don’t care.
Yet I long to hear the whispers, getting fainter every day.
They are the music of your voice , before you went away.
If you would like to get paid to write for Triond Publishing,
Click this referral link, http://www.triond.com/rw/120329
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
