the sounds of Sunday
i hear the sound of the cold wind from the sea
i hear the waking call of the roosters
the scratching feet of the dog on some disturbing flea
and i hear her steps towards the door as she opens it
she goes to church
and i hear her gently closing the door and the gate too
closing in on me
i am alone now with all the other sounds of the house
this sound of the growing silence
some voices
rushing to fill my mind
some poems
for the day
it is this silence that feeds me
the trickles of my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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