A Quiet Life Poem by Frederick Nellist

My world so quiet only silence heard
only nostalgia recalls the spoken word
Tell me does the blackbird still sing
the bee not heard but I feel it sting.

I'm like a goldfish confined to a bowl
eyes that can see but can't hear a soul
The only language that I understand
are the signs made by an educated hand.

I see leaves dancing in a muted breeze
I can sing sad songs whenever I please
Soft gentle rain never bring me fears
I hear nought they may well be tears.

An essential part of my world has died
I cant read lips though yes I've tried
Contorted hands spell out words I know
not quite as loud as soft falling snow.

Silence not golden I long much to hear
words and songs from those I hold dear
I've come to terms conversing with hands
The choice not mine, deafness demands.