The Silence of Myself

I never used to be frightened by the silence of myself

as a child
I never heard it
my world was an undiscovered noisy distraction.

A distant bus travelling through the village? An imagined journey.
Ripened grasses laughing - sun-kissed fronds against my face.
A boy-child - listening hard to his imagination.

‘Forever friends’ - voices in the playground, love-songs -
stilled now.
And hear - the silence comes -

as It surely must.
Foreboding.
Lonely.

I never used to be frightened by the silence of myself.