Sometimes I wonder what I might hear. The wind in my hair, a drop falling down my cheek like a fresh cried tear. It’s just not real, not clear. But in the meantime, it really appears. It’s there, like a whisper in my ear. Just like a teardrop from a cloud which will appear like a whistle in the windand a whisper in my ear… De Gans
poetry
Marije De Gans
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