Prose

Lips are murmuring, laughing, whispering; eyes are staring, weeping, blaming; some faces are full of happiness, others covered by sorrow, the breeze is holding their echoes, passing through me, yet I can’t catch the scene.
I with my senses have been taken where the music is, dancing beat along your heart, listening to a beautiful tune, which has no sound, your deep look is playing a soft rhythm inside.
In the outside I am living, but my feelings with you are being; your hidden presence mutes all the voices around, and music of silence appeared, among the crowd.