The Rustling Heart Poem by Sharron Stephenson

i heard her smile down the phone,
the whispers of tears, like the,
sprinkle of golden stars,
that shine over the clouds,
to this heart of mine,

the mist of laughter,
joins the rustle of paintings,
on the floor,
where the movement,
of emotions clambers,
to the sea,

the sounds of drums,
at a thundering pace,
clashes with the strikes,
of lighting,
of love,
around the home,
where the heart belongs