I sit in the silence
And I am overwhelmed
Such a silly little thing
Yet what is silly, and what is little?
My mind’s disquiet
No longer my curtain
The silence that Love now brings
I see outward, and she sees in.
Muted in prominence
I hold myself out-held
Yet lost is the icy sting
What is else, really? Lost in the middle…
But amid the muddle and mindless and piddled
I sit in the subtle, all sidled and fiddle
With fingers that flutter and fondle my heartstrings
And sing songs in silence and silly sing-songings
And all is quiet.
And all is mute.
That which once mattered does no longer.
Storms are but showers when I am around her.
All of the piffle I once shouted through.
Now drowned out by whispers of, “Dear, I Love you.”