This poem is in response to a prompt found at Writer’s Digest.


All I hear
In the silence
Of my home
Is the slight
Creak of the couch
And the seashell
Echoing in my head
Quiet and peaceful
But alone

The disconnectedness
Is such an illusion
Because as I listen
I can also hear
The beat box boom of
Music in the distance
A power saw buzz
Barking dogs
Cars that rumble past
Twittering birds
The engine of an airplane high in the sky
And my mailbox receiving the mail

Then I realize
That the world, it
Surrounds and envelopes me
Life being lived, time turning
Moving forward
My life, my time, moving
Forward even as I sit on
This creaky couch

And I am connected to the world


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