The Whisper
Upon a plain, a path I walked, though just in thought.
My ears, sensed a whisper,
Yet they did not tingle with the sound,
Of gentle voice that I once knew.
The whisper carried secrets, soft and low,
Echoes of memories, like breezes as they flow.
But it was, the stillness of the air, a familiar tinge,
Yet the warmth of its presence was a thought with a singe.
I paused on the path, heart heavy with time,
Searching for meaning in the whisper in it’s rhyme.
The breeze wrapped around me, a tender embrace,
Though the voice that I sought had vanished without a trace.
With each step I took, the whisper grew faint,
A haunting reminder, an illusionary complaint.
Yet in the silence, a truth realized, now told,
That whisper of love can never grow old.
So I walked on the path, with the sun sinking low,
Will carry the whisper in my mind, wherever I go.
For though the voice may fade, it’s essence remains,
In the heart’s quiet corners, the lost love’s whisper sustains.
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