The things I need hear;
Whisper to me
Your dreams, crystal clear.
Speak to me lowly
Of fears that you own;
Speak to me lowly
Of light you have known.
In dulceted tones sing
Of lands far away;
Harmonize softly
Of Islands to Play.
Whisper again
Of Mornings of Gold
Let the words speak
Of "us" growing old.
Hued and whispered
Dreams we will share;
Timbre's of Images
The Two of us there.
Copyright Dancers, Inc. 1997
