The whisper of your voice
Floats faintly past my ear
At the gentle rustle
Of the leaves you hear
In a quiet hush, most reverent
A touch but bare perceived
Doth balm my soul’s deep longing
Were truth to be believed
O wind sprite of the forest
Who fern and moss doth wear
Yea dances in the branches
With flowers in your hair
I follow now beside you
Our dance in measured step
Cavorting in the sunlight
Where diamond dreams are kept
Stay here with me a moment
To let your spirit play
Think not upon the morrow
But savor now the day.
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