Sound

When she whispers
like the sound a skirt makes,
the sound the leaves make,
the sound the wind makes
early, when the birds sing like
the peaceful sound of the brook.

When she speaks
like the rain itself
on the roof,
it's the sound the sunshine makes
in the yard,
the sound the moonlight makes,
the sound of a kind thought,
the sound the clouds make,
and the sound the sun makes
setting and rising.
 

The Sound Poem Copyrighted © 1998 by David Michael Jackson
All rights reserved

abdmj

If you like the sound poem contact  Dave at dave@artvilla.com

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