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| (C) Singleton, All rights protected |
on the tea stained wings of fallen butterflies...
in the empty clam shells on the shoreline, houses long abandoned...
in the bath powder clouds patted across the skies...
I hear her
in the music of old bamboo chimes, telling stories in the wind...
on the scratchy vinyl spinning in our living room,
in the sound of the laughter,
of babies and strangers and maybe, even ghosts..
She's here.
Watching...
Protecting...
Keeping her promise.
Peace.
It's everywhere we find it....
Words and artwork copyright Singleton
May not be reproduced without express permission.
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