Stolen Into Silence
She is sitting there, wishing she could
speak,
but the little girl knows she cannot.
Not here, not where the conversation
bubbles,
she longs for mommy, but
mommy is lost;
at least to her she it.
They have taken her from the little girl,
she is mommy's little
monster
hiding. The conversation surrounds her,
unconcerned with her silence;
she longs to use her voice but here
it does not belong.
She can only have stolen moments,
moments she is losing.
Time ticks by,
mommy?
Laughter from their lips,
but not because of her.
Silence drips down her throat,
so she contends her her ways
to watch, in her silence.
Voice waxes pale,
lack of use,
closed in upon itself.
She continues to sit and wait.
Silent.
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