There is a whisper out my door
Right at the shadows edge
There is a scratching at my screen
Just at the window’s ledge
There is a rustling in the shade
Beside the garden hedge
Oh, could it be that finally
I’m working loose the wedge?
Still in the darkness of the night
I linger silently in pain
Just at the edge of warmth and light
I know my voice will come again
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