He’s first to admit that without it
he hardly feels there,
friends notice how quietly
he sits and stares
misses everything said
as words fail to pierce
silence loud in his head.

They worry that he feels left out,
twist lips in compensation,
he smiles, nods, thinks ahead
to when he slips away to hear
unfolding leaves,
breathing of birds,
the clamorous world of air.

© Trevor Breedon