by BintIsmaeel

I hear the wind whisper my name,
My heart playing a drum-beat,
To the leave's soft music,
Caresses so gently placed on my face,
Brushed against my hands,
By mother earth and her daughters,
Sweet scent of oak and soil,
My breath is visible in the air,
A minty cloud of hot steam,
I am captured and enraptured,
By this game between the sisters,
I can hear them giggling and sighing,
I can feel their excitement and happiness,
And down below their playing field,
I watch them, those of above ...