…an echo of her laugh

whispers past

a simple joy, a gentle breeze

of quiet reflection that can never last

the fleeting innocence once drifting along

then disappearing into the notes of that Don Henley song

the end, he sang, of the innocence once felt

of days and of nights of serene peace

gone forever now,

for into the night’s void everything must eventually melt

though the memories and the thoughts

and the echoes of her whispers

settled this gypsy heart, putting it at ease

but that’s all long gone now

even though the echoes of her whispers

seem never to cease…