Quiet Company

The pages ruffle
The springs creak
A silent rustle
After paragraphs peak
Hip and foot shuffle
Roll over, cool cheek.

Stop, pause, sigh
Listen to rain’s patter
Wonder how, wonder why
Does it matter,
Or is it all just my
Useless, idle chatter?


Copyright 2011 Andrew Whiting


About andrewwhiting

A sentimental and sarcastic poet, lover of language, traveling and nature (not a fan of the Oxford comma).
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