This Be The Verse.

We lived our lives in silent ways
a silence of some olden ways,
where only work was allowed noise
but silence from my small voice.

Creaking floorboards, rattle of latch,
a distant dog bark these would catch,
and emphasize my silent room
faint echoes of life's distant boom...

The silence of my father still
reflecting on life's iller will,
my mother too her damaged past,
a damage that will last, did last.

And I, here, on this busy road
busy traffic, with life's great load,
alone recall that silent time,
a silence that will end with mine.