Whispered
Whispered.
A sound undistinguished,
forcing the ears to listen
more intently,
giving the mind, flashing
images of the whisperer.
We both know only you and I
are here.
We both know neither you, nor I
spoke, full voice or
in a whisper.
The animals caught it, too,
lifting their heads to the sound.
A low, rumbling growl, is emitted by the
dog, as hair on his back rises.
The hairs on my arms and neck rise, too,
in response to the sound.
A cold chill enters the room
and we look at each other,
sure someone has entered,
though the doors are locked
and we see no one.
If a mind can travel in fear,
to respond to imagined words,
how far can it travel in joy?
Locked in the parlor, not
wishing to move to the whisper;
in joy I'd travel to the moon and
beyond.
Yet here we are, choosing to be frozen
by fear.
Copyright © Lynn Simms | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment