I Hear My Finger Clacking Across the Board...

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I hear my finger clacking across the board, personal keys of ivory./I hear Glen Hansard singing in my ear, harmonies weaving to my memory./I hear the shuffle of slippers, bodies weaving throughout room./I hear the rustle of papers, taxes weighing upon a loom./I hear a drawer closing, dreams tucked only here./I hear the breeze, fading winter in my ear./I hear a bird promising spring in the frigid year./I hear counting, damaged assessed with absence of a lie./I hear the whir of a laptop fan, oh modem, please don't die!/I hear a lock being turned, protection in a pocket./I hear correction, childhood stifled, and once more/ I hear the soft closing of a refrigerator dood./I hear the removal of plastic, package opened for survey./I hear the grinding of teeth, frustration gone astray./I hear a click, notice obstructs crativity./I hear running water, drops fall to hands with glee./I hear a sigh of scceptance, afternoong slowly pass with steam./I hear my mind balk against repetition, pleading for more cream./I hear the turn of a handle, room: what yellow, cocktail music do you hold?/I hear a child's laugh, keys never appreciated until old./I hear a list; the mind requires ink in order to recall./I hear scolding, poor thing, made to feel guilty for incident so small./I hear a pleading whisper; can you keep my secret please?/I hear words in sing-song, weaving youthful melodies./I hear a discovery, hands blackened so with grease./I hear directions, follow rules with every perfect crease./I hear a jingle, modern devices leave imprint./I hear toy cars, metal roll forward with silver glint./I hear gold dropped to meet varnish, old artifact meet new./I hear every note of most importance, but all I want is you./





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