So I tell myself,
this distraction might even be
the tune, the backdrop
on which my inspiration will roll out
I listen to the chair squeaks —
high pitched and persistent,
scraping out an almost-steady rhythm,
each squeal slightly different,
though not enough to make a difference
Every now and then there is a pause,
but not quite long enough
for the silence to settle in
and spread out its
welcoming open page.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 22, 2014
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