Static Interference

In the haze of morning, I twist the old knobs,

tuning the radio, searching for sound.

Static crackles, a murmur of ghosts,

as I reach for a frequency, lost and unbound.

The dials are faded, their numbers obscure,

like fragments of thoughts that I can’t quite secure.

Each turn feels like grasping at wisps in the air,

a conversation lingering, too tangled to share.

I fumble for clarity, but all I find is noise,

a dissonance echoing, drowning out joys.

Maybe the silence is all that I need,

as I listen for signals my heart longs to heed.