My Room


As I look out onto the deserted street below me, nothing can be heard except the quiet sound of the cricket singing its song and the rain drumming on the ground. The pitter-patter of the rain falling is like an almost silent beat played on a drum. The birds have all left this quiet street. Our neighbors can be seen closing the windows across the street as if they are shutting away from the rest of the world. A small rodent creeps across the sidewalk, almost waiting to be swallowed up by the ever so growing force of the beating rain. A waterfall falls down the street creating puddles. The kids across the street emerge from their locked up house wearing bright yellow rain jackets and big yellow boots. I see them jumping and laughing in puddles. I open my window as if to talk to them, but breathe in the crisp air instead. Cold, moist air beats past my face. It feels as though winter is coming. I taste the bitterness of the air on my tongue. I can smell the wet grass on my lawn down below me. A fall of many leaves comes to an end, like a joyful day coming to a close.