I hear their words,

In wise wisps of air,

They nip my ears,

And blow my tears gone.

They shush me softly,

Like I’m a child at the dawn of bloom,

Cooling the heat of my sadness,

The horrors of being alone.

Their murmurs are an angel,

Cuddling my soul with speech,

They’re whispers are fresh air,

A new start, a new morning.

They heard my cries,

They once them cried too,

Catching me from the sky,

Landing me onto a cloud.

When I feel depressed, isolated,

In the grass, I sit myself down,

And wait for the breeze to arrive,

To greet my friends once more.