Excess of healing

Let me speak my words,
for awhile I will be quiet.

Finally,
a quiet moment allows relaxation,
even a guarded one.

To heal even one,
drains the soul.

A house of three,
intrudes on the dreams.

Reviews

[Parimal Pratyush]

I love these kind of poems. Small, precise yet so much to wonder about.

[Jon Roggie]

Thank you, and why not leave the chance to wonder?

[Matching Socks]

Is it who's or whose?
I know which witch is which but I'm not sure about who's shoes are whose?

[Jon Roggie]

I believe it would be whose, but, in this case the writer's. For a writer must write, while the words flow, even if they are only a passing moment of light.

[Matching Socks]

Lol, yes. Thank you. : ]

[Matching Socks]

True, so true. :)
Who's soul does the writer drain?
The pillar needs support too.
Enjoyed this one.
I can relate.

[Lyn Anderson]

Strangely, I have a thing with three. The last stanza spoke to me. A wonderful write.

[John Anderson]

What an amazing poem. This flows so wonderfully well and your imagery was so vivid. A praiseworthy poem you've written here. Excellent work.