Silent-Ninja1

The dead are not gone For they do not sleep in shallow graves Nor do they lie in rotting coffins Far beneath the waving grass They are not gone from this earth They are still here It is their whispers That echoes softly in the summer breeze That blows away your troubles Like the scattering of fallen leaves It is their breath That breathes life into the crackling fire The heat brushing against your skin In a comforting gesture It is their laughter That you hear from a babbling brook As the water trickles over smooth rocks That soothes you And washes away your fears It is their song That is the voice of the blue bird Serana