Sometimes I think you will just come
blowing through the wind
around the bend
in the ripple of the water
brushing over lily pads
lapping at my feet.
Or the birds will bring you
Sometimes chirpy and sweet
Sometimes deep and moving
A plea.
Pick up the pen
Write my song
Feel.
Free.
There are a thousand tiny leaves
waving gently in the breeze
Sometimes I think
they are waving
at me.
- Erin Frankel