Whisper

There’s a nip in the air, somewhat cold I wrap myself up, curl. To find comfort, warmth, more sleep. I know I need to wake up, its morning, like every other morning I hear the whisper, the same old whisper, hushed and soft Not like the pleasant breeze outside, not like the sweet drop of honey It’s the same old whisper, bringing the same old feeling My version of waiting for Godot, my tenure of wanting. My heart races, my mind paces Unable to decipher the whisper really. What is it that I cannot hear, What is it that rings in my ears. What it is that I can only feel but not listen to. What is it that shakes me up and makes me want to run to. I know not today, and I wonder if I will ever know The whisper keeps getting louder, and into a scream it grows. Its morning – I open my eyes, thinking in my head What kind of a morning is it that makes me a stranger in my own bed.