Hearing the distant vibrations as a violin string hums,
Soft patter of dry hands against concrete,
With the sliding of feet as they rise from the ground.
Chains clank with every landing and bounce,
While children watch with an eagerness to do what was impossible.
And the quiet chatter that rises from the market if one listens carefully,
With river tides overlapping one another in rhythms.
Gentle squeaks as springs tighten,
Along with the clapping of wooden blocks in a tick-tock timing.
Wind brushing past the leaves in the freshly green trees,
After the consistent rain has stopped and the clouds are grey,
With chromatic boats that rise and fall with the current,
Sitting on a broken couch with ripped faux leather,
That makes a quiet sliding sound that is almost indescribable,
Like a zip tie as the threads start to unravel.
How interesting the world is if one is to listen,
Rather than speaking and obstructing the sounds around us.
If people stopped to listen then they would find so much more,
Like the laughing of friends in the next room,
Or the concerns and panics of terrified performers and students.
How amazing would the world be to us if we just stopped and listened.
Only then would we understand so much.
YOU ARE READING
My Life Is A Circus
PuisiWelcome to the circus, behind this curtain is the exploration through the thoughts of a girl's mind by passing through heartbreak, happiness, depression, and all misunderstandings that apply to everyone who has questions and curiosities.
