Silence Is Like A Flower Blooms

Traveling backwards, homewards, back to my old bedroom in my old house, my childhood room that was there 50 years ago, back in my bed, with my covers over my head, comfy, safety, no nightmares, soft white lights, windows, light baby blue painted walls, my sister's bed is next to mine. Bunk-beds, she is over my head, guarding me in the night, dogs barking but all outside. Lights from passing cars reflecting in the night as they pass our house and car lights streak across our bedroom walls. Silence in the night. Silence is not like a cancer that grows, silence is like a flower blooms.