Midnight. The witching hour.
For me tonight, the writing hour.
I’m at the kitchen counter,
Fascinated by the glow of a solitary candle.
As I listen to the thump thump thump
Of the dripping kitchen faucet,
All is quiet.
I also hear
The ticking of the kitchen clock,
Tick tick tick tick,
And the steady beating of my heart,
Ka-thump ka-thump ka-thump.
Pleasant sounds, sounds of life.
As my mind put them all together
A drum solo emerges.
My heart beat is the bass drum,
The ticking kitchen clock is a snare drum
And the dripping faucet is my cymbal.
They are the beats of my life as a drummer,
Letting me know
That all is well,
And I am alive.
~The Tennessee Poet~
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