The Note

The note is held, there,
in the centre of the still room.
It seems even breathing stopped.

As though that one note
holds all living pulses
within its own bounds.

It fades, slowly to silence
like a snowflake falling
down on warm ground.

Fading, disappearing
and - finally - completely lost.
And breathing returns.

The heart remembers
its own particular rhythm
and blood starts to flow.

I look at you
as you look at me
as we both acknowledge

all notes come to an end
and all ends in silence.