#WritcoPoemPrompt120
The wind carried words through the sky that blew thee,
Lying on a velvet swing,
Swinging under a tree,
Whilst waiting for the King,

With leaves that whispered secrets low,
And sunbeams filtering slow,
The breeze rustled your name,
In an ethereal, sweet refrain,


Time stood still, as petals fell,
From flowers that bloomed within the dell,
Their fragrance wafted high,
As the King's arrival drew nigh,


His footsteps echoed, soft and light,
A gentle smile, a guiding light,
He reached for...