That's The Question

That Is The Question

When something metal is thrown into a near-empty old well

It spins and clatters all the way down, disturbing the peace

Of that tranquil, if stagnant place.

It’s the same for me - when clatter and chatter around me

Clang and clash with my every thought!

My words then have the ring of something very hard,

And it’s as if the soft core of me, my soul, is lost in the din -

While I try desperately to make myself heard!

Parties and crowds leave me “cold” but I’m asking myself -

Do I just hate noise disturbing my peace -

Are some people around me “empty vessels” -

Or worse still - am I stagnating like a near-empty old well?

“THAT IS THE QUESTION”!

© June Maureen Hitchcock