Silence

Brewing another cup 

In my mundane little home 

It’s nothing to see, really 

Limescale and peeling paint 

It’s the last of the teabags 

I bought in Japan 

A relic of a time 

When money flowed and freedom felt feelable 

Doubt put cracks in that pretty picture 

So beautiful how the lines came together 

Now the future is nothing 

The words the formed the story of that old life have ceased

The silence was shocking

It forced me to listen 

And each day is just that, a day 

No longer a stepping stone on a path 

But a picture frame 

Asking me to lean in, to fill the empty lines with new rhymes

That I found in the silence