My favorite song lays low in the timbre of grass for him to listen to. The rustle of the wind gives cause to mention the sounds uttered. A voicemail of love. Soft murmurs laying low in the grass. The birds reply. None other then yes in bird song. It is within this pleasure the morning awakens. The sounds of music dressed in green. Particular shades with the wind on their back. The subtle light comes to smile. So says her memory in recall. Her eyes remaining closed. For more. Copyright - Susy Kamber All rights reserved