word4word (word4word) wrote,

Cliche: Poem 1

The rain beat like my nails on the keyboard - fast, slow, silent, then steady. My window blinds kept me from watching. I paused my work to listen, to take a peak and saw nothing. Then I sat back at my desk and soon forgot about the weather for a few hours more. I became deaf until I walked out the door. The sky was gray and many of the puddles had dried. I reached my truck and shifted the clutch into drive. Not even out of the parking lot, I watched as a jagged beam lit up the sky. So thin and defined that I could see its shape (pink) when I closed my eyes. Only twice more did I see it strike. I pulled up on the driveway then. No time. I did not stop to watch the free light show from the sky. My instincts alone led me to my room, to my computer, to the power button, to the hard drive menu, to the folder, to the document, and out of sight. There I was inside, my thoughts on the outside. I thought upon but did not move to see again the transient beauty that was calling me.

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