Whispers in the blue bonnets, merging with the evening breeze
Blowing cottonwood on currents cooled by nights approach
Whispers in the leaves as they dance across the rye grass
Swirling, dipping to the music of an early spring.
Whispers of angels past, who once played here
Chasing sunbeams as they fade into the shadows
Laughter scarcely heard in the rustle of the branches
Angels frolicking in the cedars; chasing bygone dreams.
Children once graced this field of clovers,
Rainbow shorts and ribbon pony tails
Chasing fireflies, with jars for lanterns
Shouting catch me, if you can.
Vacant fields where joy had once resounded
Empty lots with empty swings
Now just whispers in our memories
Murmurs unearthed in baby angel sighs.