plumbonkers
A slice of life as it comes . . . maybe.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Footsteps
The floorboards squeak
As he walks above me--
Writing behind a closed door
Leaves me open to sounds
The tock of the clock
The squeak of the floor
The chirp of the crickets
Singing outside the window
Waking and writing
As the neighbourhood
Begins to move
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