The Silence Grows

It kills me every time I see Your face downcast in apathy I ask the questions no one knows And ever does the silence grow And every time you hesitate I feel, somehow, that I relate Each shrug delivers like a blow And always does the silence grow Every question that I ask Just seems to fuel the lack of task I tried to stir, but no one rose And ever does the silence grow We always double-back again I know, somehow, I cannot win Not laughter, snacks or even prose And, ominous, the silence grows I feel sometimes that I could cry I wish that you would tell me why The day has died the way we chose And longer, still, the silence grows Not one suggestion that I choose Will spark in you a single muse The moment shrinks, and then it goes And laughing loud, the silence grows Ah, with these hands I’d try to pry An answer from the indifferent sky But still, we’d strike such mournful lows Insidious, the silence grows I feel the thoughts that you have led Have weighted down that thoughtful head Perhaps it’s she who makes your woes The unrelenting silence grows Mark Burton Thursday August 11th, 2005, 12:20 A.M.