The Wake of Hearing

cut string zombie ukulele
banging out the merry dirges
at the wake of hearing aids
the silence gathers dusty motes
the melodies deprived of notes

rest in peace thy merry tunes
unseen by eyes that listened for
a scent up-wind of rustled leaf
the smell of rusty midnight blue
unstrung by time and played by you

kite string whipped by windy gust
swings and sings and puts on airs
you heard it back when you were small
that trick sound plays in foggy din
record it, play it back again