Echoes

The voices aren’t happy today;

The radio’s not tuned

To some antique station;

No one’s whispering rhymes from childhood;

Footsteps shuffling, when they should lie still.

No voices,

So silence must do:

Listening

To sounds unspoken:

The ticking of your brain.




Amnesia helps

Pass the hours, you joke:

The gaps between days.

Soon, the music will start;

Until then, you wait:

Time is a story

Without an ending,

Where strangers rise

From old photographs

To greet you;

And dust reigns

On dance floors,

Where you were once queen.