13 (caution: bad language)

The clock struck 5…

then struck 5 once more…

then… eventually… 2 belated peals…

then 1 for luck,

as if to say – 

“What the fuck!

thirteen’s not ‘my’ unlucky number.”
The town’s folk,

woken from slumber

by the aberration,

thought for a moment…

then, they too,

collectively shrugged shoulders…

and returned to sleep.

NB This was written in the midst of a dark period of my life when I wasn’t writing much of anything for a time. I don’t usually swear and this was way beyond my comfort zone. Shows how shy and restrained I was. G:)


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