Still and soft, it hangs delicately;
A little strained, a little tense,
Waiting.
Peaceful, it drifts, swinging in the breeze;
Swaying unconsciously from light
To dark.
Blindly it ponders the thoughts inside;
The meaning in what goes unsaid
By friends.
It caresses the mind, unjudging;
An observer of all our words,
Passive.
Yet we always feel its presence,
Whether awkward or calm, list'ning.
Silence.