My favourite programme makes me <br />yawn. It is never-ending till dawn. <br />I set my sight on the fish tank; <br />with eyes wide open, the tenant never slumbers. <br />Like waiting for something. I listen to <br />the vacuum. Silence is bothering <br />Me. Into a wooden armchair sink I; <br />which interjects with a sickening creak. <br />I gaze into space; discover that Crescent <br />is also staring at me. Finding something <br />she misses, it appears. Probably looking for <br />her other half?<br /><br />April Fung<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/middle-of-the-thread/
