The hallway held a steady hum.
My step broke through, but no one come.
A squeak, then one more echoed wide,
but I stayed fixed or turned aside.
Shoes squeaked twice,
the sound was mine, but nothing bent
or broke the line.
No startled glance,
no shift,
no laugh,
just fade to still to echo back.
The tiles cling to cling to slip,
yet somehow caught my loosened grip.
I tried to slow to
step with care,
but silence danced around the air.
Shoes squeaked twice, the sound was mine,
but nothing bent or broke the line.
No startled
glance,
no shift,
no laugh,
just space to still to echo back.
Some sounds are meant to say,
I'm here to pull attention,
spark the ear,
but when they fall on steady walls,
it's
like they never moved at all.
I crossed the hall with softer feet,
avoided tiles
where noise repeats.
Still no one turned,
still no one knew,
the space that sound
was passing through.
Shoes squeaked twice,
the sound was mine,
but nothing bent or broke
the line.
No startled glance,
no shift,
no laugh,
just fade to still to echo back.
Footsteps mark a trail in vain,
too faint for others to detain.