Parlez-Vous Francais?

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Seven a.m. electrical screech of an alarm clock.
Light offering itself to the town.
Gripping a cell phone as if it holds the answer.
A question roaming unanswered.
Cars moving with the precision of a clock.
Trees shaking their arms.
The last sound of a toy as it is thrown at the floor.
The mysteriousness of the wind as it whispers to me.
The boasting of a house full with Christmas decorations.
Breaking the silence.
Cast of a shadow in the alley.
The yellowing of an old wedding dress.
The crinkle of paper.
Music flowing out of the little café.
Forty degrees
Stepping on something sharp in the dark green grass.
Commands being tossed around on the soccer field.
The roar of a motorcycle.
The soft touch of a rose petal.
Silence in between a game.
The glow of a sunset.
Birds singing their song.
A buzzer beater that wins the game.
Elegance of a runner crossing the finish line in first place.
The flags of France flapping in the wind.
Turning of a page.
Glass shattering all over the place.
The impatient tapping of a shoe.
Clinking of ice in red wine.
Exclamation marks in everyone’s eyes.
Sunburns when you forget the sunscreen.
Flashing neon lights.
Flashlights scouring the area.
The ease of tension.
Impatient call of worried mothers.
Silence fills the air.





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