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A Special Afternoon
29 September, 2002
Author: Pamela O'Brien

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The whistle of the wind thru the tall pine trees
That sway back and forth to the afternoon breeze
A lake with rolling water
As if a perfectly rippled floor
That lap in succession against a smooth rock strewn shore

Spotted shadows appear
from the clouds in the sky
But soon bow to the suns presence
as they float on by
This place is so lonely
Yet a certain peace do I find
I guess it's natures beauty
that Seems to quiet the mind

alone on this mountain
no others do I see
Yet I think I hear whispers
That come and go with the breeze

I listen more closely
but I must wrong
For it sounds like the forest
Trying to say what they’ve held so long
Telling secrets of others
here long ago
Told without words
In a language I don’t know

But somehow I understand
The thought is so clear
It must be a dream
Im not really here
The whispers stop sharply
And so does the breeze
No movement
No sound
Just rippled water
The sky
And the trees
And so with a sigh of contentment
A smile
And a tune
I walk away with a story
Of a special summer afternoon

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