In Which I Have Conserved My Words

A pleasure's there in silence to be had.

A day's gone by and I've not said a word

To anyone. While this might count as sad

Were it a daily truth, not to have heard

A human voice at all, not e'en my own,

For this small space of time feels strangely good.

The world moves at it the pace it's always known

Outside my windows, as I knew it would.

Meanwhile my work continues quietly,

Slow progress upon progress, this thing grows

From what I planted last year inside me

Into something that's new, something that glows

With all the energy I've put there for

First months, then days, now a few hours more.