The bushes gently rustle, Laughing at my thought. The moonlight, fair and bright, Must be incredibly light. It travels by air, And pays no fare, Because it only travels at night. By Elizabeth Breen Williams Love Love is a thing, not meant to be understood. Love is a thing that does everybody good.
Love is the thing that makes some people shout.
And that is a little of what love is about. By Elizabeth Breen Williams Walk On Walk on, eyes that do not see, do not see them tormenting you. Walk on, ears that do not hear, do not hear them teasing you. Walk on, voice that does not speak, does not speak for fear of crueler punishment. Walk on, heart that holds much bitterness, much bitterness towards those who defeat you.