Friday, 8 July 2016

Softly, softly.

yes she was

The first sounds of day come softly through sleep.

A car driving past is heard as a wave softly breaking on a sandy beach.

Then silence.

Later, the voice of someone talking; crossing beneath the partly open window, it could be an insect scurrying over crumpled cardboard.

The rain falls too lightly to do anything but soften the edges.

But it is the radio that wakes him.

Angry, and insistent.

Then steps on the stairs.


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