Softest Of Whispers Poem by Eva Mae Witt

The beauty of a breeze stirs playfully in the early morning air
The breeze thus blows its weathered, unhindered into the sea
In a non-abnormal impulse, it can uplift a gale of a gust of wind
No one can predetermine the gusts of wind to which on land and sea.

Beneath a sullen moon as it's solemn unwavering heated sphere
it equates like a jewel on a calm velvety wavering night,
unto a well-defined silhouette, all encompassed darkest of sky
illuminating a tranquil, and mysterious semblance of light.

To be cool and bold as in the moon's icily darkened eyes of spark
yet, it is meek like the mannerisms of shadows hidden in the dark
Then comes the sun's glorifying majestic consuming power
reflecting its smoothest caresses enraptured with as soft warm kiss.

Then all is revived each day within a glowing new ember of love
but in the evening all expire to the twilight's hidden fading bliss
Then again to be brilliant and radiant as the rising sun
as yet, in the softest of glow as the sunsets when the day is done.