Whispers in the wind
Carry what you don’t dare to say.
On ‘tempesty’ days,
That wind brushes past striped curtains,
A draft, it lands in my home.  
It carries a guise of unwelcome
But really,
Really, it invites me to listen.
Words are swallowed by this stubborn air.
But what it wants to be known is known.
I know.