free verse/stream of conciousness

[kagomeshuko]

It's Friday night,
The band is playing,
The teams are passing the ball.
The darkness has come,
The television speak
Sounds of foolishness,
Sounds of wisdom,
Sounds that will soon be forgotten.
The drumbeats are the loudest.
It is not a dream.
It is so real.
Out there, in the chilly weather,
A whole team marches,
The numbers running through their heads,
Each person with at least three concerns,
Each person out there, following the next.
The drum beats uneven, unparalled to the beats of my heart,
And yet, oh so close.
Those beats, so close, so dear, and yet, so distant.
Just like a million other things.

~ Bridget Ilene Delaney ~