Rest Poem by Cris Ben

City noises,
wind seeping through the gaps of the windows,
the clock on its monotone,
ticking and dripping from the tap
I count as they hit the metal sink,
heart throbbing and breath deep and long
blowing from the nostrils,
melancholic symphony pervading this emptiness,
I hear a violin caterwaul.
and silence,
a sad yet soothing one,
embracing me.
such sweet caress as my eyes and bones surrender
to gravity's sweet repose.