Whispers

[I wrote this sonnet two years ago for my Lit class. The only structured poem I've written, save haikus. I'm working on a sestina now, which is proving harder than this baby was... I'll post that one, too, if I like it.]

The wind it whispers through the branches few,
She speaks of what the world has come to be.
I listen then and tell the wind of you,
She knows now how your love has set me free.
The river rushes swiftly past the pines,
He says he has not seen me in a while.
Confessing that indeed this fault is mine,
I boast to him the wonders of your smile.
The mountains strong stand tall above the rest,
Their noble faces silent never bend.
Of all the spirits they have listened best,
But you alone I'll treasure til the end.
My truest love, you spoke to me at dawn,
Alas, it was a dream -- for you have gone.