Waiting

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Upon the still night stand there it lays. With fading figure prints smeared across the screen. With the warmth transferred from one’s hand slowly fading away into the atmosphere. There it sits rectangular in shape, with a new app downloaded from the night before. There it is waiting anxiously for that hand to come back. It was once used, but is now in sleep. It’s protected by the four digit code from any uninvited hands that may try to break in. But as the day past, so does time, and the time will come shortly for it to speak again. Speak with the sound of music. Speak with the emotion of the musicians. It is ready to speak and to be heard like an explosion. With a large memory there it sits with a wide variety. But for now it has to wait, and wait until it is ready to be heard. It waits like a like a recluse. For now, it listens to the silence of the room. It can’t bear the silence. It can’t bear to hear nothing at all. It waits, and waits, until the sound of the opening bedroom door.





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