The room is silent

but I cannot help but hear the sound

of Billy Joel extolling the virtue of keeping faith,

the Piano Man with the tender voice that packed

several punches with each octave and tremble

on his lips, implores me to listen to the sound

of nothing there at all.

 

I head towards a home, one of many I have had

but one in which I didn’t appreciate till

I had been there a couple of years and the argument

I had one winter’s evening still pains me to recall.