Something wasn’t right.

You could tell by the sound

the smell or even the sight

without knowing precisely what

was wrong

but something wasn’t right.

You knew it by the way

the light had somehow dimmed

and the words no longer carried

any weight

the play was over but the

story was unfinished

leaving the worst kind of wonder;

the kind left unsatisfied,

the kind that considers

what might have been

Something wasn’t right

it must have been something

small, easily ignored, not

worth the time spent dealing

with, slipping by day after

day, unlikely to do

anything all that serious

unless it hit just right

so it was left alone...

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