Waiting for Silence to Die

We were waiting for silence to die,
patiently, by lamplight and without candles,
Just waiting for it to kick over
so we could go about our noisy lives
and hoping, the both of us, not to cry.
The heavens above us would do that soon enough.

In the still blue quiet,
the peace before the storm
in spring, before the summer,
with warmth, before the fall.
We gave our everything, we gave our all,
into waiting for the silence to die.
Amidst smells of humid concrete
before the rain and sky
forever, in all directions, an orange sky,
we could hear the season’s cry.

Was it killed by rainfall?
rainfall that then killed the calm before the storm,
and wrought tension across our heavied eyes,
or was it the trainstop,
several hundred blocks away,
in some sick city, in some far away weary world.

We were waiting for the silence to die
with lightning across the sky, trains in our minds,
and tears in our eyes,
we spoke together, for a moment,
and then I went walking in the rain.
In the thick silver sound scape
the relief, becomes the storm
in the spring, before the summer
wet for a while, before the fall.
no longer waiting for silence to die.