This room and I share secrets. Noises surround, but she protects and shelters me from the outside world. Each night I tuck and fold my secrets, and hide them in the corner of her closet. In the morning they have disappeared.
At night she whispers secrets in my ear, methods of sleeping, gaining renewal. I listen, and in the morning am refreshed. At some time during the day, I try to recall the secrets, but few of them are there. Still I await, knowing there is a safe place for me to share them once more.
I cannot hide in the room, but she shelters me from the outside while I am there. Human activity bustles around, but in dreams and in secrets I slumber.