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The room next door.
August 13, 2010
The sound of stead dripping catches my attention.
Ever so softly the drops of water plink down.
There's slow jazz music wafting and waltzing through the crack in the windowsill.
And a steady cloud of blue seeps through the spider-cracks in the wall.
Its not rain, that persistent dripping.
No, it is not the sound of rain which taps my shoulder from the next room over.
A melancholy haze hovers protectively around the walls.
And from the stifled silence, a suppressed sob escapes.
I flick off the light and wander back to sleep.
© Krystal B., Bloomingdale , IL
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This article has 3 comments.
freeflow23 GOLD said...
on Jul. 28 2011 at 10:12 pm
Not really. I think you should try writing fiction. You have a talent and should expand on it.
runtaylorrun BRONZE said...
on Jul. 28 2011 at 4:20 pm
Thank you for your support! Do you have any suggestions on how I can improve my writing?
freeflow23 GOLD said...
on Jul. 28 2011 at 2:51 pm
Wow, I really like this. You did a good job of showing what you intended.
