Silence ebbs
Down the street
By my side.

By my pride.

Shattered not
By the patter on
My umbrella,

Down Avenue Isabella.

And silence flows.

The crooked sidewalk
Grabs at my feet
And my pride snickers.

Silence breaks not
For your ambient
Bickers.

A door of wickers'
Make
On Avenue Isabella
Swings to regression

And silence flickers.

For whom
The bell tolls
My pride reprimands.

The dead need no
Gentle hands.

And on
Avenue Isabella
Porous souls are steeped
So deeply in
Their own pretension
To fill the lonely holes
That the bell tolls
To a harmonious roar
Of crowded silence.



Dead



Silence.