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little dove

whispering

dancing leaves move as the breeze whispers

whispers into the day, moves through the night

trees grow without sound like a feather falling

and sometimes colourful thoughts appear like a hopeful butterfly

 

the golden sun beams just like a quiet daffodil

rivers hold the dazzling cold water next to woods of green

I know of volcanoes and their angry personality

the voice never whispers like the peach sands and the rose sunsets

 

A moon walks into the sky softening the black daggers

it stays there and disappears in the morning light

clouds float amongst the blue like cotton wool

and sometimes roses hum in mermaid worlds