Warm wandering soul Whispering her secrets, will, And thoughts to the wind
Her reflection casts The beauty of an old soul Long travelled and wise
Gently brushing by Her scorched skin, the winter breeze Whispers all over Her. Sore flesh. Softly Lullabies her pain away. Promises relief.
A light breeze softly Passes, lifts strands of her hair Whispers in her ears
He was working the clay, soaking it in water, making it soft. Preparing the base he would filter by hand. He knew his project would take months, but he had to do it. Surprise her. Win her father over.
She was standing alone Thinking about her boy at home Assembling in her mind A list of groceries She could not afford to buy.