Middle Of The Thread - Poem by April Fung
My favourite programme makes me
yawn. It is never-ending till dawn.
I set my sight on the fish tank;
with eyes wide open, the tenant never slumbers.
Like waiting for something. I listen to
the vacuum. Silence is bothering
Me. Into a wooden armchair sink I;
which interjects with a sickening creak.
I gaze into space; discover that Crescent
is also staring at me. Finding something
she misses, it appears. Probably looking for
her other half?
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