Plates

I wish that one by one I could let them fall
And watch the shards of white china
Dance across the wooden floor

Let me listen as they talk
Their voices
Melodic clicks
They make as they skip all over the room.

I don’t hear your voice
Your loud shouting
Your yells;
Just the dainty shattering of those
Old ,old plates.

I’ll smile at your rage
Your heavy palm against my head
As long as you beat your drum
In time with my drop.

O, such music we’ll make!
But there is one thing I ask,
When the last plate has fallen,
Let me fall too.





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