Literature
Quietly I Sit
Quietly I sit, and listen to the ticking.
Empty chairs around me, blank page on my lap.
At intervals, next door, the trill of phones
And the answering chirp
Interrupt the keyboard's tapping.
Bland words strained through a perpetual smile
Lukewarm and sterile as the cream-painted walls.
From above, on hearing's edge, drift murmurs,
As tangled thoughts are unpicked
And troubled minds laid bare.
Toys beside me in a plastic crate.
It would have been a trove, once -
Comfort used to be so simple.
Through today's eyes, they appear lifeless
And lonely.
Spiderman lies, legs twisted, beneath a car.
Action figures limply await their next