I wonder if our secrets are heard by the trees,
As dancing leaves gently drift to the ground.
Do they share our whispers with the ever-flowing breeze,
Carrying rumours in their soft, rustling sound?
Do sweet-sounding birds catch our secrets on the wind,
Composing their songs as they soar through the sky?
With melodies woven, do they sing what we conceal,
Recalling our secrets and whispers as they fly?
Does the rainfall collect our soft whispers in raindrops,
Telling all as they merge with the vast, rolling sea?
Does the lunar pull send them forth with the tide,
Sharing our secrets with stars that shine eternally?
©️Lizzie Bevis
