Lingering Silence

Lingering Silence

Time and again, it happens.

The routine is like an old friend.

Not a welcoming site, but one we’ve grown used to, and assume we like.

During the birth, we spoke all the time, like young lovers in school.

Plans become made, a future verbally built.

One of hopes and dreams, and even goals to be seen.

Soon, it begins, the silence that always comes.

The days are still filled with words,

The small silences seem comfortable.

Then, they begin to stretch,

Get longer,

Come more often,

Until one of us, or both of us,

Feel like nothing more,

Than a fleeing thought.

A feeling, like the start of being forgotten.

It’s only a matter of time, before it happens.

When conversions happen a couple times a week,

If that,

Or one a week…

Then the feeling will take over,

Transformation complete,

I’m no longer anything more,

Than a lingering, yet fleeting, thought.