The Strange Silence Poem by Aisha Sherazi

It's strange how,
She opens every cupboard and drawer,
And hangs from my clothes,
She throws things loudly,
And hounds us all day,
With her boisterous charm.

And it's strange how,
He never stops talking,
We constantly hear,
About his latest invention,
His important ideas,
His grand plans and schemes,
Designed to improve the world.

But the strangest things of all,
Is the silence that ensues,
The very second I mention,
Bedtime,
Homework,
Come and clean up,
There is suddenly,
An eerie silence,
And neither of them,
Can be found,
For miles,
And miles.