Wotd sound

​it used to be a song that got my to pump my fist in the air signaling teenage rebellion

It used to be the applause from an appreciative audience after a show that ensured my love of theater

It used to be the finger snaps I’m so many Sunday nights at the green mill that drove me to come back week after week to improve my craft

Feeling the roar of B1B bombers hit afterburners at the end of the runway woke me from my 3rd shift slumber

The rattling of subway cars gives me a feeling that I’m home

Sirens still make me jump warning me that the bangers are angry tonight

But what gives me peace today is the faint snoring of my daughters after a long day of learning and adventure

I recognize my father’s voice when I speak, the timbre and intonation although I try so hard to erase it

My mother’s attempt to regain speech is mirrored in my girls first monologue and I can’t stop crying

The silence that roars when no one is home makes me appreciate everything and everyone that lives under my watch

The scratching of the stubble on my face reminds me of the years I’ve lived

My favorite things is where I first began being inspired

The turning of a page is life moving forward

My lover’s gasp after we make it and before we slumber lets me know I still got it


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