Listen as the branches move, a plane high in the sky,
Birds are sleeping in the trees, listen too your own heartbeat.
Your own thoughts are heard in your ears, ticking of the clock,
The attic may creek, the night does surely speak.
Silence has its own sound, hear it all around,
There are many things that creep as the night sleeps.
When all is quiet there is a certain peace that echoes in the dark,
When all is quiet thoughts become stories that come to life.
Keith Garrett
keithgarrettpoetry 
I always enjoy quiet time. Very lovely poem!
Thanks so much
On Sat, May 9, 2015 at 10:42 AM, keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
>
It is the silence that things are created. ~nan
Great poem
Reblogged this on KingFo and commented:
A fantastic poem for quite people.