Elise Skidmore

Even when it's quiet
it's never really silent.
Like hearing the ocean 
in a seashell,
there are always 
soft sounds that whisper.
I rest my head on your chest
to hear the blood pumping through your veins
and the steady beat of your heart;
I'm comforted by hushed breaths
fluttering in my hair.
There is solace in the white noise
of being together in the dark,
sweet succor in a troubled world.

~Elise Skidmore ©2022