Sometimes, it’s everything.

Sometimes, very little,

Like a wink, or a sigh, or a smack.

Often it seems as if

It creeps across the ceiling,

Like a thought that should turn into a snack.

Sometimes, it comes with Noise.

Often, though, it’s silent,

Black and white, strung with pearls, words unsaid.

Sometimes, a glimpse of life,

Without explanation,

There you are, but only in my head.

© Petrina Binney (2018)