We’re doing poetry at the moment at uni, and I’m behind on both that and these, and just needed to write something today. So don’t judge.
Staring at alleys that bend into darkness,
Whose cobblestones cough under leaves.
It leads to a place we don’t know.
It leads somewhere muffled in leaves.
Close in on the corner, the hidden new world,
Whose trees like sargassos sway.
Maybe we are under a sea.
Maybe quiet is our little sea.
Somewhere deeper, a cymbal
Stepping in sequence with every impact,
We hide inside larger sounds.
Need to hear and not to be heard.
Need to sit at the bottom, and look up.
Hiding in a hidden place where the sargassos sway,
The audience does not applaud.
We listen to a tune we don’t know.
We listen to the sound and the silence.
Long story short, Seddon has secret drummers and maybe you are one of them?