I walk inside my dark and silent room,

I hear the laughter,

The drinks passes around,

I turn on the dim and welcoming light,

With a feeling of emptiness,

I sit at my forgiving desk,

A piece of paper tip toes over,

A pen gently caresses my hand until I take it within my grip,

My eyes widen as I hear it,

It whispers softly in my ear,

Sending chills down my back,

It takes my hand and begins to write,

I am blind to the words before me,

Then finally all is still,

All is quiet,

I blink once then twice until the blur fades,

I look down to see what the whispers had written,

I knew what had possessed me then,

It was a simple thing really,

It was a poem.