I hear those whispers in my ears,
Just like the flutters of a butterfly,
The words that I want to hear,
The words that's lost somewhere,
Like a fine song that leaves the flute,
I strain to hear the tunes of wild,
The bamboo calling out for me to try,
I closed my eyes anticipating the shrill cry,
My lips circled and blew the tune,
Started not right, but there was a music..
Music that followed the sway of trees,
A song that embraced the whole outdoor,
It wasn't my worry if my tunes were wrong,
There was no one to listen to this particular song.
I knew then I should take the steps alone,
My ears tuned to hear those little whispers,
Let me make a song from what I heard and what got lost somewhere,
The filled blanks are my emotions,
When I played them in my flute,
It got better and better..
Even the lost song is for a better tide...