“SILENT WORDS” — written for and because of Bernard Bragg

He teaches me with silent words,
Words as fleeting as a summer’s breeze.
And while his hands caress the air,
He puts my heart at ease.

His fingertips, like wings of doves,
Fly through the air with wondrous sound.
And, though the stillness is ne’er disturbed,
Words filled with love are all around.

My mind rings when he speaks of bombs
That burst in darkened skies.
And strains to hear when he talks of love:
Its whispers and its sighs.

And with each new stroke his hands create
A masterpiece for me to view.
A wealth of knowledge in his hands-
A well of light I must pursue.

The meaning of those brilliant hues
Are forever lost on wayward eyes.
But, I, I sit there mesmerized-
Transfixed by hands that are so wise.

He shares his feelings in silence gold,
No empty words for him.
I send mine back for him to hold,
He gives them back again.
Much richer now for him.

He teaches me with silent words,
Words as fleeting as a summer’s breeze.
And while his hands caress the air,
He puts my heart at ease.

His fingertips, like wings of doves,
Fly through the air with wondrous sound.
And, though the stillness is ne’er disturbed,
Words filled with love are all around.

Not a sound…

– Sheila Heyman



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