March 2020
March 2020
A serene morning.
I rouse to no ding.
Am I daydreaming?
I languorously lock my eyes on a clock.
It is getting on for 10 o'clock.
A muffled bang on the door.
I am not alone at home?
My wispy feet stomp on the floor,
Eyes engrossed in the spyhole.
A girl in a white top.
Grotesque features I evoke.
Her bright red lips mutter on
'2024,...'
'Calls you to the main floor.'
Copyright © Zuzanna Was | Year Posted 2024
|