Hushed explosions and rapid gunfire
Leak out from the living room
Rap rumbles Upstairs
as heavy footed children tumble
A frustrated dishwasher clatters
While the comforter-laden washer lumbers towards a raucous freedom
I walk
Along a winding cobblestones of plots
Behind a fortress of verses listening to the
Voices chitter in the thicket of my keys
In a quiet corner of my own,
I write.
circularstaircase 
Odella Farrell
>
Thanks for reading. I’m doing more poetry to push myself.