Jittery and uneasy, I struggle
through the dread
brought by
disquietude, keeping me
quiet
too often, frozen in apprehension
and restless,
shaking – eager
         – to move.

A gentle breeze washes
over me,
stirring a voice
that is not mine,
lost
when
         I close the window.  

(c) 2019 Phillip Knight Scott

Written for the dVerse weekly prompt Quadrille #85. The Quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words (not including the title), including one specific word, this time “voice.”