Muted Song

His lips parted, but the notes clung, threaded in silence by invisible keys. The song stayed, in a nest of aches, where wishes fluttered without hope of flight. He hummed, but no one heard the melody curled beneath spoken noise. They praised his calm, his quiet, and manly things he always played. Never knowing his timely hush was a wretched note never sung aloud. He nodded, clapped in soft time, while his ribs beat a slow mourning tune. Some songs bloom like flowers aloud, but his grew in pain, rooted deep in hush. Still it throbbed, a muted plea— just once, a tune to be heard and freed.