I hear the roses sigh for the wanting of a pair and the Earth’s pain as I tread upon her back
I can hear the soil being tumbled by the worms and the ants marching in their soldier packs
I can hear the leaves giggling with excitement as they commit towards the ground
I can hear the branches moaning, grief-stricken, as its children are no longer around
I hear the cackling of the fire and the spirit breaking free with the flame
And I hear me calling, shyly shouting out your name.
I hear the stillness of the air and then the whisper of the wind as its strength blows me away
I can hear screaming from the grains of sand as I sink into their bodies that lay
I hear the pebbles squabbling with the water, seemingly sticking out its tongue
I can hear the summoning murmurs as the tide ebbs along
I can hear the wind and water mingle as one, by the mixing of their blood through a cut pulsing vein
As I hear me calling, shyly shouting out your name.
I can hear the silence of the moon and the wishes of a thousand as I gaze up to the shooting star
I can hear the night swiftly dying as dawn holds its door ajar
I hear the sky calming with relief as the shining needles unpierce and disappear
I can hear the relentless torment of the sun by the night though I’m sleeping here.