White Noise

He’s ambling toward me and his lips move I pick up my pace, the distance to remove Moving ever closer, still can’t hear his voice So much seems distorted in a world of white noise Bikers trek loudly o’er the pebble-filled road And the sounds of nature are on overload Energetic squirrels rustle through tree limbs Mother duck spreads wings, splashes as she swims Even the watch on my wrist ticks faintly Its old smiling face staring back so quaintly Now he is no more than ten feet away But the words he utters -- still awash in gray His message eludes me, though I long to hear Why is it his words do not reach my ears Face to face, but the barrier still solid My pulse quickens and my skin turns pallid Could it be I hear only what cannot hurt Above words of rejection, painful and curt As he moves away, I sense the farewell But still the mere notion I try to dispel Absorbing instead the more welcome white noise That penetrates my brain by my own choice *For Constance's Contest: "Hearing" "...for a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest." From "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel.