When I Meet You
Wind blows the branches
Crimson leaves fall;
Dark shadows dance
On the sunlit wall.
The wind softly whispers
Secrets to the trees;
Then I'm reminded
Of much more than these.
In the grey twilight
When ever I meet you;
The trees are more crimson
And the sky is more blue.
When the wind calls her song
In forgotten skies;
Would it be wrong
If we were not wise?
Copyright © Elizabeth Wesley | Year Posted 2011
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