Read between the lines—

the words often left unsaid.

Worries that weaken the warrior,

exclamations of love that go 

unheard because they begin 

as quickly as they end.

It is a shouted sermon of silence—

like bated breath in a flute, 

it hardly makes a sound.

These memories were melodies,

but now they're the ghosts 

that haunt the carousel 

of our unfamiliar fairground.