I am quiet, with aspiration.
I haven’t spoken for nearly forty hours.
Through the glass windows,
I hear the top of the trees rustling.
I think the leaves are getting ready to mourn me.
Soon the day becomes darker
So I get up, switch on the light.
And resolve to be worthy of the swaying tree tops.
Featured image: Silence, by Mikhail Nesterov, WikiArt.org