Bringing Mae Flowers

Silence.

Muffled, echoing voices singing yuletide songs.

Silence.

Smothered, trodding footsteps in the light crunch of snow.

Silence.

Dimmed, crackling flickers of a soft grated flame.

Silence.

Measured, rhythmic turning of a well worn page.

Silence.

Hushed, intimate whispers of a loved one’s voice.

Silence.

Stilled, passing time in the winter frozen world.