Lost summer dreams
when everything still,
a whisper from above
upon my pillow soft,
awakened me from
a sleep I didn't know.
Upon a hilltop awaiting
with angel's breath flowing,
peaceful streams along
green meadows resting,
a book beneath a tree
tells a story about me.
Images and places lost
among once familiar faces,
winds of melancholy drifting...
then a voice in a sunlit room,
with morning dew lilacs bloom
whispered be still...be still.
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