Sweetness Between Silences

Prompt: write a poem utilizing the phrase "between silences"

So many things happen
between the silences

You hear my voice, don't you?
The plip-plop of raindrops against your bedroom window
The gentle strums of a guitar being played on your neighbor's porch
The sound of little kids playing down the street

It seems like everything happens between silences
Because the silences are the stillness

The nothingness and emptiness
The days when you stare blankly at your white-washed ceiling
You don't want to move
You just want... to think... and breathe... and be

You want to be silent.

But then you hear the soft rumbling purr of the cat
as she curls up against the curve of your waist
and buries her soft head into your belly, her tail twitching
flicking softly across your hand

The whistling soprano of the flute coming from the room next to yours
delicate, sweet and pure, like the fluttering of a heartbeat
Racing, racing... ba-dum... ba-dum...
breaking the silence over and over again

I love the silence
But even the silence cannot compare to the dolce of the piano
when the drifting, rolling chords are strummed by nimble fingers
What is the lack of sound compared to such?

Silence is sweet in of itself
but between silences is oftentimes sweeter still


Note: meh... sappy again... I'm too tired...