The Sounds Poem When she whispers like the sounds a skirt makes, the sounds the leaves make, the sounds 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 sounds the moonlight makes, the sounds of a kind thought, the sounds the clouds make, and the sounds the sun makes setting and rising   The Sounds Copyrighted © 1998 by David Michael Jackson All rights reserved Contact  Dave at editors@artvilla.com David's Archive| Artvilla|