In the moonlit meadow where shadows play,
Silent whispers dance on the edge of night and day.
A secret language, a melody unseen,
Where lovers' promises blend with the tenderest dream.

The zephyrs weave through the tall grass fair,
Carrying whispers of a love so rare.
The stars above in their silent throng,
Sing the ballad of hearts ever ever long.

The night is old, the moon indeed high,
Yet love's sweet whispers never die.
Through the rustling leaves and the hush of trees,
Their soft refrain a forever breeze.

Whispers of joy, whispers of sorrow,
Echoes of moments which we all borrow.
Tales of yesteryear, future untold,
All in the language of whispers, brave and bold.

Two souls entwined for a tender embrace,
Whispered secrets in a tranquil space.
Their hearts in rhythm, their breath is in tune,
A symphony played out by the silent moon.

The whispers speak of love's sweet bloom,
Of a bond unbroken, a promise consumed.
In the stillness of night, they share,
The warmth of passion beyond compare.

Their eyes meet, their hearts take flight,
In the gentle glow of a soft moonlight.
Their whispers carry on the night's quiet breeze,
A declaration of love that ever never ceases.

The river's flow, the owl's cloying hoot,
The whispers grow, the silence suits.
The world around in quietude lies,
But in their hearts, a love that never never dies.

Through stormy skies and gentle rain,
The whispers yet remain, unchanged, untamed.
The whispers of love, for all times near,
Guiding hearts through joy and frighted fear.

In the silence of the starlit night,
Their whispers become part of an eternal light.
A ballad sung by the stillness of stars,
Guiding lovers through the vastness of the lines and bars.

And as the dawn breaks, the whispers faded,
But in their hearts, the love is not ever jaded.
For in the silence, their love remains,
A secret shared through the softest refrains.

The ballad lives on, in whispers faint,
A testament to love that is never ever taint.
In the stillness of the morning air,
Their whispers linger, beyond despair.

The meadow sleeps, the night is through,
The whispers of love have all to do.
With every dawn, they rise anew,
Silent whispers, forever true.

© Travis Allen King aka DTH