each snowflake shares
a story
to those with
ears for
quiet
nestled in between
the hours
we rest as though
in death.
silence
heaviness of
talk–
drags me into rooms
i care not
visit
to squander
hours
on words that
matter
not.
in
silence
our needs are
met
and within its solace
rings the voice
of truth.
a conversation
fades..
and pupils
float,
as silence becomes
wedged
deep in our
throats.
hands in the garden 
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