Notes About The Poem
Not real, pure imagination.
The Noise
It was the quietest of hums deep pitched
that appeared to be surrounding me.
It did not have the sizzle of electricity
and was not a light or the fridge.
Hunting high and low trying to make sense
of where it was originating from.
A few hours later and still no wiser
I sat back and pondered on things.
Next I tried turning off the power
which made not a smidgeon of difference.
It was still there quietly emitting sound
I knew what I needed to track it down.
I got out a stethoscope and placed it
first to the walls and then to the ceiling.
Ah now I knew what it was, munching away
slowly demolishing the whole of my house.
Feasting away, leaving behind a clue
a small pile of very fine wood.
Yes I was infested by a very small grub
commonly known as a wood worm.
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