The Sign
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To hear the whispers through the trees
As flowers move in morning breeze,
With silent thoughts as time moves slow,
The honey bees flit to and fro.
As sunshine glows upon my face,
I search the clouds in skies own space,
Seeking out a precious sign,
to heal this broken heart of mine.
For then I see a heart shaped form,
My heart no longer hurt and torn.
To realise that you are near,
I gently brush aside each tear.
I shall not see you ever again,
Maybe in heaven who knows when,
Till then I'll cherish every sign,
To know your close,
that suits me fine.
Jayne Louise Davies
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