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Artist
Whisper of the Veil
She drifts where moonlight barely gleams,
A breath of silk in silver streams.
Her fingers, wisps of quiet sighs,
Trace unseen paths through hollow skies.
Her hair, a river, pale and bright,
Flows weightless in the hush of night.
A spectral waltz, so soft, so slow,
A shimmered hush, an echoed glow.
No sorrow lingers in her face,
Just longing lost in time’s embrace.
A fleeting dream, a misty trace—
Then silence takes her final place.
Mike Brown
with love By Mojo
