Nothing is Wrong

gray0328

 

The clock ticks in an empty room.

We sit and stare at the peeling wallpaper.

Not a word spoken in an afternoon,

The silence grows taller than the skyscraper.

 

A dog barks at a passing cloud.

Nothing is wrong, yet the air hangs heavy.

Our thoughts wander away like a crowd

Of ghosts at a funfair that's empty.

 

The coffee cold in the mug,

The newspaper unread on the floor;

We contemplate the snug fit

Of the spider in the corner.

 

The TV mutters static rhymes.

Nothing is wrong, and yet all askew.

Our eyes drift to the window many times

To watch the sky forgetting its blue.

 

Lost in the maze of what was once new,

Love lies napping on the couch.

With nothing wrong, we've nothing to pursue,

Where even whispers seem too loud.

  • Author: gray0328 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 23rd, 2024 09:41
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 3
  • Users favorite of this poem: Alan R
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