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sound of silence…

Time & tide wait for none
And they didn’t
When they swept you in.

Sometimes when Greta asks me to accompany her to the slothful sea
I think of Grandma’s warning ,
“Appearances can be deceiving , dear”
Like the charming man next door,
Whose house screams of rage each night ,
Which makes me wonder if you screamed the same way ?
Was it as high as our favourite swing ?
Was it as much as the visits of the surfers on the beach?
Or was it the sound of silence?
The kind of sound you hear in falling sunbeam,
Or before the arrival of a storm,
Or in the stare of a mother bird who lost her chicks,
Or in the secretive Greta who never tells me about her charming father,
Or in the crypt you reside in.