At Peace

A bitter day emphasized by tapping keys,

and raindrops sliding slowly down.

Clouds fly outside with never ending pleas;

static silence in a white noise town.

Neon light shines on a ghostly pale face,

its body blanketed by the shadow.

A musty stench flows and an acrid taste

is left behind from a languid lotto.

In tune with the keys, a single die rolls

across the wily, wooden boards.

A dog whose tongue indefinitely lolls

lies by the die with fakeful force.

Thunder compliments keys so quickly pressed;

an honest harmony of mossy melodies.

And puddles outside splatter attempts to contest;

constant cries for impossible longevity.

The white noise town is stagnant at peace,

sleeping soundly the days away.

But the dog by the die barks so suddenly,

a nd the town is thrust into its destined disarray.