Tapping

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 14, 2018

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Submitted: July 14, 2018

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Tapping

 

Some animal

Outside my window

Is tapping.

Its infrequent beats

Conjure anxiety

Within me.

Is it bird

Or squirrel?

Perhaps some other

Mythic

Of yore?

I think it not

A squirrel.

For how could it

Cling

To a two-story

Brick cliff

And still make

Such distressing

Noise?

I dare not look-

For in

The Mystery

Conceals a perfect question.

My sister enters.

She hears

The clamor.

Such decibels

Make her cover

Her ears.

It taps and raps-

And then

Falls quiet.

Has it gone?

Or is it

Merely silent?

A ruse

To entreat

Thoughts of its

Escape?

Still.

“Has it fled?”

Creeps into my

Mind.

“What is tapping?”

I implore.

It must be a nut

Or some small

Pebble meant to

Vex me

At this late hour.

An Acorn.

That’s what I’ve

Decided upon.

For it is

Autumn.

I have not

Heard it

For some time now.

Pray it be gone

Or wish it to stay…

I know not.

Yet to prolong

Its clamor

Would be

A selfish

Wish.

Moments pass.

Time

Sifts from my

Fingers;

Grains of sand

Lost

To the ether.

I find no closure

In cessation,

No pleasure

In silence,

And no joy

In agony.

For it is agony

To be with.

And agony

To have not.

A new noise,

A new beat,

A new era,

Arrives.


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