the whistler

the whistler

by: rainjewel

~*~

he stands in the corner

in the dark realm of his room

and he won't speak

for it betrays him so

because he knows that

men who talk too much

are fools

but he'll whistle tunes

of forgotten dreams

and abandoned faith

or of the pain in his soul

that'll ring in your ears

and leave you in tears

since the tunes are all

subtle testimonies of

his sadness

but he'll never show you

what's truly on his mind

for a stoic mask

guards his face so

you can never know

of his bright witticism

and his love for a

certain brown-eyed boy

or of his wild homeland

where he used to

run wild in the spring

and who would guess

that he loves to dance

and what of his

soft spot for cats

but you'll hear it

for in his voice

there is his loneliness

and in his footsteps

you can hear his

caged soul that

wants to fly away

and if you listen

to his heartbeat you may

catch a glimmer of

the contradiction that is he

for his aura is that of tragedy

but if you're lucky

and catch him alone

while he works tirelessly

into the night

and you listen to every note

that echoes on his full lips

you might hear the sound

of his fragile hope

but only when he whistles