Whispering softly when I’m alone.
Every word like a secret thread,
Floating in a quiet tone.
An empty chair sits by the door,
Reminding me of times gone by.
The echoes whisper more and more,
Like a friend who doesn’t say goodbye.
I speak my thoughts into the air but only silence answers back.
The empty room is always there keeping secret along its track.
Each small step I take on the floor echoes softly in the room.
The sounds return again once more like
A flower in gentle bloom.
Here I sit, feeling a bit of blue, but the echoes keep me company.
They help me think and see things through, in this room where I am free to be me.
--Abigail A., 6th-8th Grade