Silence

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I love
The sound of
Rain
On the roof

I love
The scent
Of cinnamon
Sharp
Sweet

Over any
Of these
I love
The truth
Behind
Silence.

I coat
Myself
In its glory
And bask
In its strength

I admire
The atttention
It provides to me.

Without the voices
In the hallway
That scream over
Themselves just
To be heard
Or to share
The gossip
Of the hour.

All I know
Becomes
A blank slate,
No strong
Scents;
No voices,
Only me,
My pencil,
And the tapping
Of the rain.






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