First Silence
by: E. A. Bartholomew

Silence is my only friend;
With her I can be true
In her I can hear my thoughts
My secrets, she'd renew
Her presence signifies regard
Her parting: mystery
For her obscurity is scarce
As lucidity to me
Now tell me, what can I do
To remedy my pain?
My tears fall to her shoulder
Like an arid april rain
A fortnight and three days therein
Silence; incarnated
Set to seek and sought to find
The meek and duely fated
Serenity is bliss,
But this can't be the way
Her thoughts and cold expressions
Leave me wounded in the fray
And so I cling onto this life
And cease her words with mine
Apologies for simple words
Seem worthless at the time
Silence speaks in larger terms
Than any other can
Her being seems more grandiose
Than consciousness can span
Could I contrive a deeper thought?
Or should I bid adieu?
For silence, my only friend,
Can be no less than true