His voice is still and small, not pressing on my will,
He waits for me to bend, to break open the seal.
He speaks in whispers quiet in the breeze as passers by it,
Quiet as a mouse, He moves about the house,
Waiting for me to come to Him in the morning hours.
Getting ready for the day, I begin to pray,
Unaware He’s not getting in the way.
My tears fall like summer showers,
And just then a blossom flowers.
I see Him then and gently nestle closer in,
I hush my soul as His voice becomes my only hymn.
There we are, just me and Him.
hiswordsarelikecandy.com 
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