Quiet

Quietly running through the house
The wood starts to creek
There is a little mouse
The fields, they all become quiet too
Not a cricket is chirping
Near dampness of dew
Drips of water drip off the spout
Like an echo of wall
Fading in , fading out
The wind sweeps by
Lulling soft little breezes
Amongst the leaves
Hushes of silence then sneezes
The house sits still
Like a lamp that never freezes
I look out the window
As cars pass me by
Will tomorrow come again?
I kind of say with a sigh
Will the shadow of doubt in my mind
Ever seize
Will the night over head bring down
To my knees?
I could toss and turn
Not sleeping a wink
Yet my passion i treasure
My eyes shudderless blink
In a moment that is forwarded into another
Should i shelter or shake
Should i shatter or shutter?
Should i look beyond what i see,
What i know?
Its far more important that seeds i have sew.
Now laying up, upon the soft
Cotton in braids
Tiny and tattered within my sherades
So to speak words are few
Left amongst all the cold blades of grass
Leave me be on my own
I am broken like glass.