• poeticgamer 49w

    Voices

    Through the walls, across the hardwood halls I hear them,
    Words, words that float on a chilly night air as birds.
    Whispers as soft as cotton slippers, the spoken sweet nothings.
    The wind has become calm, moonlight to my skin is the balm, now I am left alone since the wind has gone.

    ©poeticgamer