A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer–Gem-ma, Gem-ma–and then the leaves bend down and trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.
A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it,
A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer–Gem-ma, Gem-ma–and then the leaves bend down and trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.
