What more is being lost,
than not knowing where to go
for the fingers that hover over
the lettered keys have nothing to say*

And the half empty ink-***
with a dried stuck cap,
is dancing to the cries of
the un-tuned borrowed guitar
mocking the silence of a silent heart
as the shadow of a flame mocks the dark

So long have I whistled this tune,
or is it just my forte?