The mellow voice resonates in the woods,
Sounds like the harp, thus uplift my moods
At the brook, my eyes beyond the rocks
And then a shadow luminescent like a mist.
It is not a dream, I can smell jasmine scent
Our aura, the brownish leaves that fell
Remember last autumn when you carve
Two hearts on the bark of mahogany?
Have you forgotten, as leaves fell below,
A swift breeze carried the leaves on row
As you gently touch my cheeks, I know
It is just a dream, tears rolled...beyond!
All rights reserved: Cynthia Abegail Bernardo