#1077376 added September 28, 2024 at 6:19am Restrictions: None
Writing on a rainy afternoon - Week 7
It might have been September
it was that kind of fall rain
a silver curtain over the window
a gentle rhythm tapping on the panes
murmuring in the leaf-clogged gutters
a distant song faintly playing in my memory
for which there were no words
beyond the refrain:
“Monday, Monday”.
I couldn’t get warm,
the kettle whistled for me
to make another cup of tea.
I grasped the pen in desperation
and inked the words into the book
before they could leave me.
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