the hush between pauses
falls away into a mist
of things unsaid

it is an opaqueness
a barrier between the thought
and the word we did not dare to hear

a snowfall of whispers drops into absence
and disperses its blank muteness
in melting sheets of confetti

the unsaid rides like a phantom
bleached under the cold sun
a loosened avalanche of nothing said

with the vanishing wind it is gone
a dream is closed over by heavy lids
an image is consigned to the bin

did we say nothing?
did we never know?
were we so very mute?

.

.