A story told in verse focusing upon sounds primarily. |
My alarm clock is blaring. Its sound is so near. The click of the switch fills up my ear. The pillow is loud as I pick up my head. My feet pad the floor when I sit on my bed. The floor boards are creaky when I make for the door. A switch clicks to life; then a click one time more. A flush and a faucet I hasten to go. The switches again stumble stepping too slow. Feet plod on a stairwell; bacon fries in a pan. The clock chimes the hour; we must hurry if we can. Doors slam and close up; The car roars awake. Gas, gears, and gravel on the road we must take. Talking and laughing, a phone sings its song. I say we are late, but we shall not be long. Then a squeal and a scream, a crash and a horn. Sirens are wailing to a scene most forlorn. Voices address me; where is my pain? Squeaking and creaking and doors close again. Sirens sing briefly, many voices around. My pulse keeping time with a faint beeping sound. The tune of my heartbeat, It skips here and there. Then the tempo goes wrong; people shout everywhere. The clamor dies down; the time is called out. Wheels squeak down a hallway, no more bustling about. I hear a door close but my ears do not fill. This room is so quiet this room is so still. There are no sounds here… this room is so still. |