A whisper,
Carried upon the summer breeze,
To the right ear,
Is seductively charming,
But I want to SHOUT!
Loud like a hurricane,
That which I’ve always been destined,
From the highest rooftops,
For all the world to hear,
And yet silence curbs my tongue,
For I know not that which I want to shout,
Your name.
Copyright: authorchrisbrown
