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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495342" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>the sounds of Sunday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495342" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i hear the sound of the cold wind from the sea<br>i hear the waking call of the roosters<br>the scratching feet of the dog on some disturbing flea</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495342" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">and i hear her steps towards the door as she opens it<br>she goes to church<br>and i hear her gently closing the door and the gate too<br>closing in on me</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495342" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i am alone now with all the other sounds of the house<br>this sound of the growing silence<br>some voices<br>rushing to fill my mind<br>some poems<br>for the day</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495342" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">it is this silence that feeds me<br>the trickles of my soul</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>

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