Behind tall buildings where even shadows don't dare to linger long, the barren silence of leaves scattering down deserted roads whisper.
Streetlights burning cold and distant, keeping their silent watch.
She counts her steps, retracing her route, learning silence as she goes.
It is this she knows. The better left to be unsaid.
The better left to be forgotten. And so it is left unspoken
for more years than she's been counting.
She counts her steps.
One foot in front of the other taking it back.
She opens her mouth to find the words and begins to speak.
Retracing her lines.
Finding a way back from what was lost to
what waits to be reclaimed.
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