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We lay our whispers softly
in the branches of the trees
paths criss-cross recrossing
as we tell our victories
they whisper slow and softly
as the night brings in the black
but the stars that shine in darkness
they reflect our glory back
the first grey light of breaking day
born of the rising sun
like wisps of mist the fallen
ghost the first grey light of dawn
and you tell your secrets safely
to the branches of the trees
their lines trace out the patterns
of their whispered mysteries
a thousand tales of heroes gone
still waiting to be told
are whispered in the hazy light
as dawn’s gold rays unfold

I was tidying up some weeks back and it’s a rather boring job, so I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a quick line every time I walked past the table. The end result then got forgotten in my living room for a while until I noticed it cluttering up the table and thought I should really digitise it and get rid of the random paper. And I actually quite like this one (particularly since it got complimented!).

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