9/21/92

It's September 18th at 2 a.m.

I am stood up.

I sit here alone

On the porch outside my room.

The night breeze whips my hair.

I clutch myself from the cold.

I look around the courtyard,

Listen to the crickets' symphony,

Alternating with

The haunting harmony of a lone wooden flute.

It and the cold give me goosebumps.

When the breeze blows south,

I hear a party.

The guys jeering.

The sound of the flute comes back

with the change in the wind.

It has caught me in its emotion.

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The contents of these pages are copyright 1996 by Jennifer Kelbaugh. Said contents may not be published for profit or restricted without the express written permission of the author. For the purposes of this notice, the author of all contents on this page is Jennifer Kelbaugh.