Silence

As the sun shines it’s rays on his house
and morning coffee is brewing slowly,
he came upto his father,
looking at his face with all his focus,
ears begging to hear the response
and he asked,
“Papa, your silence
speaks of a story.”
He glances over and replies calmly,
“I am the garden, my boy.
Filled with variety of flowers,
grown by light and rain;
stomped by shoes of pain.
My silence speaks of how
my words have been misunderstood multitude of times;
let others mute my voice;
so now I only speak when needed because
the more I learn, the less I speak.”