Tom Dylan

Out of Earshot

I would always wear earphones

when I\'m walking,

listening to the radio

and my music,

while making my way 

along the street.

 

The chatter of the DJ\'s

and the radio tunes

becoming my soundtrack,

I\'d feel like I was 

starring in the 

opening scenes 

of my very own movie.

 

I used to joke that my

legs wouldn\'t work

without my earphones.

But with my music

I could walk for miles.

 

I would put my earphones in

and set off, my feet beating

the pavement in time

to the music,

clicking my fingers,

as I briskly walked along.

 

One day, as I set off on a walk,

marching along.

I reached into my pocket

for my earphones.

I swore under my breath.

My pocket was empty.

I\'d forgotten them.

 

I could have gone back home

but I knew that if I did

then the pull of the sofa

would be too strong 

and my intentions of

a walk would go out the window.

 

Fuming and annoyed,

I stropped down the street,

in angry stomps,

cursing my forgetfulness.

I debated how far I should go,

on this tune-less silent stroll.

Maybe half-way, three-quarters,

before turning back.

In future I would keep my earphones

in my coat pocket.

 

My anger subsided as I went on,

and I started noticing the sounds

all around me. 

A couple walking by, sharing a joke,

laughing at the punchline,

a helicopter thrumming overhead.

a dog barking at it\'s owner to throw the ball,

ice-cream van chimes ringing out

from a near-by street,

a man across the road,

wearing shorts despite the cold,

whistling to himself as he walked.

 

These days when I go for a walk

I leave my earphones behind, 

my wonderful soundtrack is

the world around me

and all that\'s in it.