Trading Places…

The ticking of the clock, ebbing in and out,
sometimes loud sometimes soft,
depending on the distracted thought.
Outside, the sound of children’s laughter in the playground,
cars trundling up and down the road.
Mumbled voices whisper through the walls and t
he feverish clatter of calculator keys click clack.

Two separate worlds exist in two separate vacuums,
the inner walls contain the secrets and thoughts of many.
The outside surrenders to the bustle of noisy children,
noisy traffic and noisy world.
Yet in this inner sanctum, these four walls bend their ears to hear the folly of
many.
Two chairs face-to-face, one empty, one taken, taken up with the form of me.
I sit and wait for the impending bell and a new beginning of a new experience.

I wonder if I were to sit in the chair of the other, would I…
Would I hear the ticking of the clock, ebbing in and out,
sometimes loud sometimes soft,
depending on the distracted thought.
Would I hear the sound of children’s laughter in the playground?
Or the sound of cars trundling up and down outside
and the mumbled voices through the walls.
And maybe, just maybe, the feverish clatter of calculators clacking
or filing cabinet drawers springing back into place.
And yet, in the opposite chair, I too am the other
So I trade places for a while…I sit and I imagine…

 Marie Merton