|Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission||Contact | Participate|
|Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special|
￭ The only thing
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2009-06-03 | |
October evening. The door towards the court is opened. At once something jumps inside. A cricket entered the room. Surprised, I was looking for it, arrived in the room, he hides himself. All day long I was busy and forgot about it. But in the evening, just at eight o' clock he begins to sing:
from the door sash
the new lodger
Next day he got out from his hiding place. Wishing to take him in a photo, the first frame was unclear. Finally, I catch him in a paper bag and put it in a shoes box. Next evening he didn't sing any more. I slink some leaves inside, to nourish him. Next morning there was no more but I found a leave from which a little parcel failed, his dinner.
He escaped, I thought, he didn't like to live in, and now he is free. Sorry for the photo.
In the evening, once again his song from the door sash and I enjoyed his concerto:
the cricket's concerto
to eight o'clock
|Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests.|