The Mutes

The Mutes

All of them were present,
the atmosphere was mute,
each face undeniably cute,
a register never so beaut.

Brothers and sisters, living transistors,
kept pin-drop quiet,
for the attendance, this time,
was not on diet.

"Such a bright day!", exclaimed the speaker taking a glance outside.
But nobody did, in agreement or disagreement, speak
as if somebody had taped each beak,
Speaker says, "Never, in my life, have I seen a day so bleak!"

Quietism prevailed for record duration,
discreetly brewing dangerous intervention.

Suddenly, a pair of hands turned into daggers,
and a heart wished suicide,
without a second of delay,
the suicide embraced homicide.


While the happy furore was on,
a voice ascended like the sun of dawn,
and said, "He is gone, now you may speak.
Good or bad,
let it pertain to the dead lad.
However, before everything, let our humanity speak,
A minute more of silence we can happily add,
for a soul that met, a fate so sad."