...this song that trickles like a waterfall
in my mind, soft and gentle like a tickle.

And the silence whistles tonight,
a tune I don’t quite recognize.
I’m curious, so I listen: It whistles…
like a birdcall, a song without lyrics,
that sends a message, cheerful and bright;
a gentle cadence like a summer breeze
plays amongst the supple leaves
and petals heavy with the scent of night.
A flash of sound, a hummingbird in flight,
and I wonder, as I watch it go:
Where does it land when it leaves me?

And the silence whistles tonight,
a tune I struggle to remember.
It resonates inside my throat, my heart,
and my lips want to echo a reprise
to this song that trickles like a waterfall
in my mind, soft and gentle like a tickle.
I feel it close to me, then it recoils,
like swells that break and foam around my feet,
as I walk along the shore,
and then wane to disappear back into the sea,
and I wonder, as I watch it go:
After it touched me, to whom will it flee?

And the silence whistles tonight,
a tune it needs me to hear, no doubt.
One I’ve whistled myself, it seems,
though it was so long ago,
I had forgotten, somehow.
But it has traveled through the breeze,
the tune I whistled, cheerful and bright,
like a mischievous sprite, it played
amongst the supple leaves
and petals heavy with the scent of night,
and a traveler heard  its sound.
Astounded, he listened: It whistles,
soft and gentle like a tickle... and he smiled.
Felt it like the swells that rushed and foamed
around his feet, when he walked by the shore
and wondered, as he watched it fly:
Where will it wander, when I set it free?

Carmen Ruggero © 2004

This piece was written for a very dear friend in the hopes to bring him comfort following the sudden death of his younger brother.