You stand there in the quiet wood. Lips moving but no sound coming out.
There is silence all around, not even in the trees.
The sky overhead is dotted with clouds, smoky like a marble and this texture is reflected in your eyes. Light bounces off the green leaves, gleaming bright yellow.
You imagine, if you could, music. Strings and a bass drum and flute music would be your instruments, whispers your voice. You close your eyes and breathe in the sound, lips still moving with no sound coming out.
Lightly I step towards you and take your hand. I can hear the music from your mind, but it is invisible to you. Our fingers curl around each others and I pull you into a dance.
Gentle, we sway to the sound of nothing, and create a waltz from no experience.
Your lips still move, with no sound coming out.
By Ailsa Williamson
(Prompts: listless, marble, Debussy music)