The wind carried her name like a feather across the valleys and trees.
Flittering across the rolling whispering hills–to the pastures where the cattle graze.
Her name spoken so softly,
rustling up the leaves on the cobblestone path of the tiny village.
Even the cold nipped air of the treacherous snowy mountains,
they hear the faint echo of a name unlike any other.
Tall grass on the dusty plains bow to the melody that plays.
Her name– so quiet, a phantom.
The seas roar and the waves crash.
Her name screamed across the rapid rushing water.
She stands quietly at the cliff's edge– weeping.
Still waiting for her lover,
who lies at the bottom of the ocean– sleeping.
-C.R. Phoenix-
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