SilenceBy Anthony Thwaite
This silence, with you away –These silences, day after day –
Silence itself, pure and cold and grey –Once I welcomed it, heard
Nothing but peace, even a bird
Disturbing it. Without a word
Silence welcomed me,
tookMe in friendliness, shook
Melancholy out, thrust a bookInto my hands, so that I read
Hungrily of what lay ahead,Not thinking of the dead.
Silence lies along the bone,Grey, cold as a stone.
Source: “Someone has said, ‘It is not how old you are but how you are old.’ The way I was old today on my eightieth birthday is that I have just entered the infancy of middle age.” SIR ISAAC, ISAACS | THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY