A whisper through leaves

There she is again; the voice, dulcet, soft
half-sung, semi-distant
audible, but faint; clear, yet indistinguishable
a whisper to me, gently, skin to skin
lip to ear, touching
a caress, sonic, wave forms that reach out, unseen
and come to shore with the riffle
of brine water over beach stone
or morning breeze through beech leaves
an echo, of past lives and what will become

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