walls silenced under white
voiceless
and blind
stand testimonial
to the ebb and flow of life…
white white white
this inescapable sight
that paints the walls of the inner eye;
our sorrows muffled under
pangs of laughter.
fog that is white
sometimes the moon too?
silver white!
white
that dresses the skies
and our whispers alike.
white:
unred, unblue, uncolored,
white that isnt green
white the bosom of a page
studded in script
white that listens
when asked to speak
white
us washed off our sins.
walled water
bitter breeze
rippled thoughts
september skies
tons of tadpoles
tadpoles that grow up to be
frogs in the well
unless
they take the stairs
from the window,the sound of wind. almost voice-like. and then, silence. silence? or the aural void that replaces the wind? television talks. just as it did since dawn. the clock ticks overhead and holds an unending conversation with the table clock. a distant vehicle blares and another and another. birds sing. the next best sound after silence. the beep of an incoming message. occasional giggles and quips from the drawing room. melodrama unfolds on the television. and silence falls. again. the keys click as i type. and life flows, dull and grim without the music that is silence.
