Silence Speaks

I stifle a yawn.

This is no time to be sleepy.

There is too much to do. Too much to see.

I don’t know what yet, but I will.

You stifle a yawn.

I don’t feel so bad.

We’re quiet tonight.

But our silence is pretty loud.

Between all the things I won’t say

And all the things you can’t,

Conversation doesn’t get very far.

This walk was supposed to help.

So far it has only made my nose cold.

The nose is the worst part of the face to have cold.

There’s nothing you can do about it,

It just sits there, frozen and runny.

I steal a side glance.

You aren’t looking at me.

I don’t know what you’re looking at.

Just ahead.

I do the same.

I don’t see much.

Is that bad?

I look at where we’re going,

And I can tell it’s nowhere.

Yet we keep walking.

Why are we still walking?

Sometimes I have conversations with myself.

I talk about the weather, about the old man we just passed,

How I liked the reindeer on his sweater. He looked warm.

I small talk with myself.

Why can’t I small talk with you?

The silence is getting quieter.

I didn’t know it could get quieter.

Folding my arms, I sigh.

I want to tell you about the dream I had last night,

How you were there, standing in the corner.

I was watching you, but you didn’t pay attention.

You just stood there, like you had something to say.

Finally, you looked at me, words on the tip of your tongue.

Then I woke up.

Do you have something to say?

Right now, do you have something to say?

I wish you’d say it.

Then maybe I could say it too.