Does sound have colour?, Do you understand what I mean?,
Does it have a particular shape to it?, To whom can it be seen?,
Do various sounds build a picture in your creative mind's eye?,
For an intriguing auditory sensation that beckons a reason why,
Listening to wind in the wires, whistling an eerie symphony,
Or that sound of a dawn chorus, the wakening birds' cacophony,
The tympani of the beating wings as majestic eagles take to flight,
Close your eyes and concentrate let listening replace your sight,
The harmonics of rippling water tumbling over stones in a stream,
Resonating through the woodlands, magically visioned but still unseen,
So we can taste its pure freshness, a cool crisp flavour fills our senses,
Hearing minute droplets whisper by as the dew on a leaf condenses,
In the stillness of an evening after the weather extremes of the day,
Comes a vibrating background of the high pitched cicadas at play,
Calmed by the invisible sound of breaking waves on a night-time shore,
Or listen to unseen frogs croak when overnight rain decides to pour,
The pattering of welcome rain drops on a scorching hot tin roof,
Like the tap-dancing feet of angels skipping on the ceiling above,
Leaves of high trees rustling as a breeze makes its way through,
Signalling to us a cool change as a possible storm begins to brew,
The purring of a contented kitten as it lies snuggling on your chair,
Remembering the new cry of your first-born dependent in your care,
Around blossoms rich in pollen the humming of bees on their wing,
Or that long forgotten musical piece that still compels you to sing,
Listening to the sound of your own voice, deaf to your surround,
Open your eyes to a new world by keeping your ear to the ground,
Some noise can be the irritant while a sound could be almost pure
Its' the deafening sound of silence that is the threat to the insecure,