With every driftwood whisper, As the tide meets solid ground, The earth emerges singing, In the softest, hushed sound.
The cycle of the seasons, In harmony align, As nature weaves our stories, In verses so divine.
- Lillian B Miller
With every driftwood whisper, As the tide meets solid ground, The earth emerges singing, In the softest, hushed sound.
The cycle of the seasons, In harmony align, As nature weaves our stories, In verses so divine.