Quiet

The quiet of the night has settled in and I hear the intermittent sound of cars passing by. The widows are open and yet the air is still. I sit and type these words. Aware that that they leave my fingertips trying to speak softly to you. I was warned. I was told that these words would not fan the flames. These words would not drive you away, bring you close, or change your mind. They were just words and would fall like leaves. Still, I choose not to believe.