I grew up in the tranquility of the forest, in a cool nursery under
the Oak, Birch and Chestnut trees. The voice of a loving human
mother was not to be, yet the mother I had was very dear to me.
Her voice was that the wind, the voice that I could understand she
fanned my enchanted dreams. The sun found me through the
branches, a welcome warm beam.
I grew up with many strange voices, it was my father who took care
of me, and he really tried. So I flourished under heavenly skies, I am
silent in my loneliness, a motherless child after she died.
2013©annjohnsonmurphree
ann johnson-murphree 
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