The Whisperer

I am the whisperer


You may never hear a single word from me

But rather, hints here and there—everywhere

A calming wind, a sparkle in the evening air

A forgotten dream, a burdened care


A million fireflies, or leaves on trees

Indentations in the sand, the cool sea breeze

The murmuring hum of a swarm of bees


The incandescent hush of his touch on your skin

An ocean of delight for you to swim in

Listen hard, for every faint trace

Of my lingering voice

Amid the din.


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