Poetry
Singing of silence, whisperingly…
Then, sometimes, I feel like shouting
At the topmost pitch of voice to know
If that special someone is there on the
Other side, meek and mute and hidden;
Or to get back the itching echo to myself,
For assuring I'm still alive here hopefully... There's no jingling, no ringing
Nothing of tinkling or any clinking
I could breathe sole silence
That's sick, steely and stifling… A silent sigh thus escapes her unnoticed
And vanishes into the horizon up there.
A pearl-drop rolls down her pale cheek
And evaporates before she could realise... Silence is there for you to ponder
On things you don't feel at home with;
Silence is there for me to wonder
At what's really going on beneath… Silence is there for her to rethink
The decision she has hastily made;
Silence is there for him to shrink
From the dull desire under a shade.
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