Cecilia Skopec

Rookie (5/27/93 / Chicago)

That Hour

The clock ticks and hits the hardest hour.
Sending the butterflies fluttering rapidly.
Look to that little bird on your shoulder.
Is it that time?
The red moon glows dimly above you.
It's reflection hovering below you.
Star gazing in the weeds like a normal night.
But the mood in the breeze tells that tonight is not.
It is so uncomfortable that the crickets refuse to chirp.

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