Sitting on the floor,
Listening to the whir
Of the record player
Go round and round,
Soft music seeping
Through a crackle
Like fire,
I lean my head back,
Close my eyes,
Step out of myself,
My life and the world,
Finding, for a moment,
Peace.
At least until the
Record stops,
And silence mocks
Me again.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020