A voice carried by the whistling wind,
beckoning from far away,
to sing, to dream,
to listen to the silence
when words cease.
An invitation to sit on a throne
by the side of the king as his
beloved queen and bask
in the warmth of the sun's blessings
after a long cold winter.
Old, tattered dreams now forgotten.
A throne abandoned, empty,
a void space to fill with new desires.
A glance, a touch, a hug
shatter the silence and speak
louder than words.
Cares tossed to the wind,
the voice now a distant whisper.
Mouths tell secrets without speaking,
eyes lost in each other, all else
fades from view.
The kingdom as it was now
a faded dream.
© VTyalinHM 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem