Whisper's

WHISPER’S April rain fell like whispers on grass, Soft and light like a half felt apology. Dark clouds wafted overhead in shamed silence. Distressed by a cold winter’s return. Daffodils wept and bowed in fading despair, My Father’s favourite plant was slipping away. As my Father had done and now my Mother too Lost to a world of cold whispers and sorrow. Dead flowers I had placed on their grave so light Were fading like a memory, a star un-bright. Still the rain whispered but failed to cleanse, The grit of sorrow that inhabits my heart.