Dawns begin with a song of nature, their morning routines as diverse as them yet in principle, still the same.
Sounds of water, mechanics and such, from room to room they move with purpose, the sounds of goodbyes, as diverse as them yet in principle, still the same.
Jingling keys, rustling leaves from a breeze, footsteps pounding a pavement, engines ticking over, trains rattling on tracks, the cycle's bell, the laughter of school kids, the sighs of delays, the tuts of the crowds, treble from car stereos, planes overhead, as diverse as them yet in principle, still the same.
Fingers on keyboards, phones ringing, the hum of conversation, elsewhere scanners bleep, voices rise, stomach's rumble, as diverse as them, yet in principle, still the same.
Repetitions of sounds like delayed echoes, white noise all around them, a rumble of thunder, a siren's squeal, playground rabbles, bass from subwoofers filling the air, as diverse as them, yet in principle, still the same.
And on it goes like a song on repeat, shouting, a yawn, a gasp, a moan, an infant's cry, a snore, as diverse as them, yet in principle, still the same.
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Little Whispers
PoetryA collection of poetic prose from the depths of a troubled mind *All images are reproduced from Wordpress Media Gallery
