Nothing that I say

[busker]

Nothing that I say today

will mean as much

as the murmuring you make,

stirring in our bed, dawn

softly illuminating our room,

the fan gently whirring

overhead, and your arm

curled across my heart.

I couldn’t quite warm up to “murmuring you make”
“Murmuring” is too much like bees.

“Gently whirring” is a cliche
The final “heart” feels out of place. The rest of the poem is all solid images, but now comes a metaphor.
Maybe “chest”?

I like the general idea of the poem, but it comes across as a bit flat for now