I saw a drop of water fall on your desk
I looked up
Because of course it must have been a leak
Strangely,
The ceiling was intact
Odd.
His face wrinkled as they talked together
I looked for sour foods
Like a lemon or a pickle
But there were none
She yelled out
Loudly
So I looked for a spider
Or perhaps a serial killer.
I couldn't find any
But then
You told me
And I knew
And the ceiling above me must have been full of holes
And there must have been onions or sauerkraut nearby
And all the serial killers and spiders seemed to have joined forces that day
What other explanation?
CITEȘTI
Songs of the Soul
PoetrySimilar to one of my previous stories because it is about life, but different because this is poetry. Sort of.
