Observations

Here I sit upon the bench,
With paper in a deathlike clench.
Listeing hard to hear the sounds,
That circle through me, all around.
The creaking of an opening door,
The rustling of leaves against the floor.
The footsteps of two differnt souls,
One is young, the other old.
The churning of the AC fan,
the clinking keys of a working man.
The coughing of my fellow friend,
A lawnmower cutting, then it ends.
The cracking of my knukles, ten,
Some sall birds chirping around the bend.
People walking through the doors,
Quiet talking forevermore.