The Quiet

The Melody has Gone to School

The Quiet

There are missed notes of memories here

Part of the cycle of youth

There is less energy here

For a third of the measure to sun to the moon

Less delay

Less rush

Repeat for five bars a week

And the Quiet

The Quiet stole the memories

Muting the piece I’ve tried to compose

No patter of feet on wood floors

The absence of calls

And cries

And laughter

A rest in the melody

That just seems to beat so slowly

Yet so loudly.

The Quiet

Such a sought-after commodity

Took some life

And music

And dance right out of me               

And It is so loud

The Quiet screams at me

The sorrows of the memories

That are to be

Had elsewhere away from me

The Quiet mocked me with it’s tempting poison

And I drank it silently

As tears fell into the glass in simple slow salty notes

The glass not filled with chocolate milk

The glass not spilled on the floor

The glass not fought over for its color

The Quiet then sits with me

Holding my hand in a pause

And dries my tears

I found comfort in tasks done

And warm coffee finished

I found peace with the Quiet

With another book page turned.

Quiet gently reminded me

Of melodies silenced when I found

Nothing to do for a moment

Suddenly Sound returned from Its day away

Quiet chuckled with a wide grin

As the Chords sang over each other in allegro

Of Their new memories at such frantic volume

The Quiet knew I’d eagerly await Its return tomorrow

With bittersweet tears that

Decrescendo over the weeks

With peaceful reverie of all the unmade music here

Just waiting to hear about Their Sounds

       of the beautiful Symphony

            They go out in the World to make.

Published by elizabethridge

A poet and author from Iowa. Just trying to make feelings into words and make it mean something. Or nothing. You read and decide

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