Poetry

Sojourn

The morning
arrived quietly,
a subtle,
pregnant
pause,
the comforting
hum of a
neighbor’s
air conditioner
and the steady
clack
clack
clack
of a distant
westbound train
the only sounds,
as if the
breathless
week having
rumbled through
half its life
set aside its
ponderous bustling
for a moment
to reflect.
The gentleness
of the
interlude
moved me
to tears,
and I held
wednesday’s hand
in silence,
wondering
what would become
of us

Categories: Poetry

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