But silence is the only music
Humming around the corridor,
Staining window pains
With empty mist, rattling
Invisible dust that dances, vibrates
Around cloudy surfaces-
All imaginary imperfections coming
To answer silence’s call,
Trying to satisfy her lonely
Neck that yearns to feel, and
Knees that urge to bend
By a lover’s touch, hidden under
Cotton rivers, ebbing, flowing
Through new crevices she earned from age,
New valleys she earned from diligence,
Creating their own music as
The rattles and vibrations cease to bother
Her now occupied ears, tender, lips touch,
Sweet murmuring, again the lullaby
First heard under an unchanging night.
“Come and sing again”, she whispers now
To the dried flowers, and they
Try to remember the river’s
Fertile waters, but the clock’s ticking
Has faded all recollections.