When a breeze glides upon your face,
That is a whisper from those departed,
Spoken through the trees, rustling
On every branch and leaf.
Can you hear the mummers, listen
Carefully, you just listen to the breeze.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC
When a breeze glides upon your face,
That is a whisper from those departed,
Spoken through the trees, rustling
On every branch and leaf.
Can you hear the mummers, listen
Carefully, you just listen to the breeze.
