If only she could recognize me, she would realize how truly near I am.
Her wailing sobs silence my spiritual presence
I am… the whistling wind
the rustling leaves
the melodious chirps at dawn
the rhythm of the lapping ocean
the gentle taps of rain on the window
the clanging of church bells
the creaks in the old porch swing
She sits on that porch swing, swaying in sorrow, holding head in hand; tragically unaware I sit beside her.
