"I produced ten CDs of silence."
I should have left then.
But I didn't want to give up that easily,
Even though his hands were already walking
Over to the next appointment.
Paper after paper following
To a neat stack on his desk.
"It is silence of the special kind.
Dreamy, airly silence,
And disharmonious -
A piece for everyone
Who wants to return to music
And shut out the noise in their lives.
Don't you want to listen?"
- "Where are you going?"
His hands have finally stopped walking.
"I am going home,"
Even silence does not free us
From being human.
© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved. 2020.