I stood with both my feet upon the floor,
My coat still warm, my bag held in my hand.
The room exhaled; it did not ask for more
Than that I pause and simply, quietly stand.

The house grew audible in ways it will
When nothing moves and no one needs to speak.
The hinge, the clock, the dust suspended still
Made time feel wider as the moments leak.

In waiting, something loosened in my chest:
The need to rush, to answer, to be late.
The body learns what stillness does the best
How standing there becomes a form of fate.

Some truths arrive when we decide to stay:
That nothing breaks if we do not move away.