Solitude's Song Poem by Elowen Knoll

My mind, a well-worn library, shelves heavy with thought,
Pages soft from turning, each word a world caught.
Silent stacks of memory, where truths quietly bloom,
No clamor can unravel this sacred, quiet room.

A social whirl descends, a clamor, a fray,
My brain, like gnocchi overcooked, softens, frays.
Each voice a weight, each laugh a spark that drains,
My emotional battery hums, then falters, wanes.

What joy could justify this toll, this fleeting din?
What fleeting thrill could pull me from within?
Silence sings sweeter than chatter's shallow stream,
Small talk sputters, while solitude's a dream.

No fake smiles will I wear, no masks to don,
Companionship, unpeaceful, I'll kindly send along.
But oh, I see energy's subtle shift,
A quiet smile of the eyes, a gentle, wordless gift.

I observe, I digest, I cradle what's true,
Every nuance, every glance, I may see.
Not missing a thing, though I seem far away,
I've found another path, where my soul can stay.