Silence

What do you do with an old shoe
When all they care for is a golden one
With worn laces and a shine long gone
Who cares at all for an old rag?

I could give them smiles and laughters
And an occasional peace with eyes closed
But what should I do if all I have
Are tears, soft sobs and an unspoken lament?

I could write a joke or two
A funny poem, with a moral or two
But now I have only rants, with no listeners
And my own sorrows, to cope up with.

When I had flowers I shared; but my sorrows, I cant
My tears are mine, for no one to see
My sorrows are private, for me alone
To be buried, with a blanket of tears dried.

Grief I wont share and bliss I have not
Hence silence is the key, which is the resort
Close my eyes I will, where I can
To be opened, when comes the dawn.