In the silence of harsh words unspoken
The air grows thick with empty noise,
Frozen smiles tell a lie, as little ones giggle on cue,
A house full of stuff that will never make a home,
Collecting dust and resentment.
A melancholic kind of joy breaks my heart, while it aches for a time gone by and one that may still be,
Caught between the past and the future, there’s no time for the present,
Meanwhile, the play goes on.
Margo Hus 