Whispers

Dusk paints the richest hues,
park's bench now vacant
as any eye might see.

But angel sits and smiles
still remembering the whispers
a mother made about the times
she came here with her child.

Woman left,
teardrops stains still fresh upon the ground,
thinking about her child now in heaven.

Unaware how a winged offspring
had sat by her and heard every word.