The first time my room mate has ever been gone.

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It is strange, in my room,
Sure, his computer will hum,
but then so will I,
but I’ll pick the tune.

For a time, on my own,
Sure, the quiet consumes me,
though it will not last,
though I wish it would.

Hope for it, with his sake,
Sure, it is not even real,
at least it’s for a while,
at least he’ll feel it once.

Back to it, he will come,
the music box with turning knobs,
gears that click and spin,
uniform and trill.

Alas, he will come to find, when in the mill it rains,
And time will come to take away the chance for a change.
Alone and stiff full of regret, you’ll finally realize,
A certain music box has been blaring out your eyes.
Across the universe, the globe, and the hall,
Apparently the fraction found was not that big at all.

Alas you will see and find only one way left to go…

…It’ll be strange, in your room,
Sure, your computer will hum,
but then you will too,
there will be no tune.

Crank the bar, music box,
slowly looping is the sound,
eerily so low,
uniform and trill.

End.

please note that I wrote this one in 2007

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