I miss my family

Drifting in the provoking silences of the nights,
I think magical, haunting thoughts,
remember and dream and drink.
The silence is beautiful, maddening,
needed and loud.
And the lost sound of others' sleep
is loudest and most intruding.
Mother and Father in the marital bed.
The child in the cot, the brother beside me.
The pictures remain but they don't make a sound.
The music can blare, the frogs might sing.
Even wind and nearby sea have a voice,
and the traffic on the street.
But the perfect sound of others' sleep escapes me.