They say old trees
talk after midnight,
spill the secrets
of lovers who confess
beneath their branches,
and those secrets
become the wind
blowing through clouds,
they are the songs
birds sing at dawn,
and the reason why
the moon glows at night.
‘Round here they say
love comes in on a ship
with sails ghostly white,
slips into the heart
of its intended while
sleeping in a dream;
in the morning,
eyes wake to new colors,
music falls from flowers
no one else can hear,
ground becomes air
and air becomes sweet perfume.
Believe if you want
or don’t believe at all,
but know this for certain -
life doesn’t owe us
any explanations.
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
meg
thank you.
one always slips by me 
Hilly xxx
