quiet crab

i squirm inside a peopled room
in which a throng of voices call
my tuner cannot sift the blend
tangling knots within my loom

drop me in a crowded hall
i won’t blend into the crowd
i’ll sink into the shadows
try to blend into the walls

i’m ever seeking quietude
so the voices muffle not my own
that still soft voice behind the shroud
behind all the others queued

but give me a dais on which to stand
perhaps a lectern to hide behind
from pinnacle parapet or pulpit
i can feel the voice flow quite grand

i need not hide away on my hut
to hear both you and i
for i can truly listen
when my mouth is shut

once to the seashore welcome
the crab crawls from its shell
perhaps when they are polished
my words sound not so dumb

the seed ship’s sails aluffing
on solar winds so few
my paddle at my side in case
my muse was merely bluffing

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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