Whipers
by Victor Whitmore
A gental wind that seldom blows
a storm that comes but never shows
across the prairies and over the land
shifting grass and soft white sand
A soft spoken word from across the sea
pericing onward to you and me
maybe a voice from the past
coming throu time at last
Seaking a mate to hear what must be said
against the night of crisum red
toward the mountains agross the valley
making it's way it must rally
finding a perfect home for that is clear
free of hope and that of fear
flying straight and very true
a friend sends a whisper to you.
Poetry
Gay Love ADVICE
