Thursdays seemed to be infinite
When she'd kneel behind the door of her room
Listen to hit after hit, invisible and precise
Intoxications impulse-rhythm
Fists on face
Until finally
Trembly whisperings heralded the
creation of the end of the day
Sacrosanct peace
Glowing with the sinking sun
Wow - powerful poem Pearl...so few words and every one of them packs a punch...
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