Whispers

As I feel the summer wind
I hear voices on the breeze.
Blowing and chasing each other,
tumbling over in their haste
to make me understand
what I can not see.

The voices whisper of things
not heard or seen in this world.
Rainbows in vivid colors,
thunder as it streaks across
the darkened sky, or the giggle
of a child at play in innocence
of the world of abuse that waits.


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