Singing silent songs of yesterday

There's a feeling that floats by
not so often as before
it used to hover above
life's every banality
and hum its way into the heart
of moments beneath the music
of shy glances
and glimpsed pictures
of private smiles

emotions stoked and stroked
within the colour of every song
until bruised fingers start to stain
and tinge the strings and keys
with hues of bitterest blue

now and then
the music still sounds as sweet
as when first it rang
to call words and feelings true
but now the magic lies
in anticipating the dying moments

until slowly
silence rises and opens weary eyes
and rests again
when the empty noise
of wayside notes tuned
to the key of shattered crystal hearts
rings out once more

too soon or too late
in that moment
under the thundering lament
of soft spoken words
it's hard to hear the sounds
that once were pleasant