Zephyr
ZEPHYR
She strolls out in a summer woodland glade
The leaves of fall bedeck her head to feet
She hurries through the snowy city street
Her singing in the springtime does not fade
Cool my tired shoulders at the days end
Caress my cheek with feather soft and light
Whisper tales of love all through the long night
Wake me fresh and pure, everlasting friend
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
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