Silent in the House

I sit on a chair of thoughts.

Softer and softer it grows.

Dawn's hungry light grabs and hides the dark

And morning slips on its clothes.

My hands race as ink falls out their tips

Swirling on poetry and songs and dreams.

They're feeling the warmth of bright sun and skies

And hearing the howls of darker things.

It's Silent in the House.

Alone in the room, but not alone at all.

Holding onto reality with an invisible thread.

Listening to the shadows caress the white wall.

A beautiful picture of ivory hands.

Melody of silence in harmony screams.

Reaching for love in the thoughts of the lost.

Silence in sunbeams is piercing it seems.