FREED VERSE

Not just the sound, but also the still
  bears a levity yet able to fill
Pallid grays with dancing blues,
  life returns to those mute hues.
Lighter than air, louder than rain
  pounding on a tin roof past lain,
A welcome storm to cut the strife
  lightening that is wanted to strike.

A stroke, a stare, a stolen glace: 
more than enough to turn my silver tongue glass.