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Whispers in trees
You were there,
to see every sorrow,
hiding.
Like a hunter, a weapon drawn,
a moment could prove fatal if a movement is wrong.
In grace comes the dawn and her shining sun, to warm
our cold and hardened hearts.
But among the trees were whispers,
a long forgotten soul still haunts,
echoes, chilling upon weary ears do fall,
and between the shallow streams and ferns,
Ghosts we become....
