Needs no answer

Just a voicing

Of things being done

Or thoughts

That run

Constantly through the mind…

It will continue

To be sure as we age

Reminding me of another

Page…

In my life, as my mother

Sang out her to do list

To the tempo of Gregorian chant

Heard each morning

Through opened windows

As a Benedictine Convent

Was close by…

Tony Butella (Of the Letterman)

Lived across the street…

Seldom has there been silence

As the voice of my love ones

Can be heard near by…

The tones are constant

Th volume can change

If thoughts aren’t routine

Turning into annoying

Irritations…upping the strain…

Silence is heard when

We are apart

But the distance

Is heard with

Each beat of my heart…