Wednesday, March 10, 2010


There is silence born of sorrow
When a word seems vain and trite
There's the silence of the morrow
As today fades into night
There’s the silence of the guilty
And the silence of the free
There’s the silence of your eyes, my dear
When you look at me

There’s a silence born of hatred
Oh, how deafening its bell
As it counts the hopeless minutes
In a gloomy silent knell
And there’s silence sweet as heaven
For the lover and his love
In the song the stars are singing
Soundless serenade above

There’s the silence of a thousand words
That dance around the truth
Or silence wrought by age and wisdom
But disdained by youth
There is silence that is blissful
Or cold as a switchblade knife
Like the silence in a household
Twixt a husband and a wife

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

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