The Sound I Had Grown to Despise

I stared into oblivion,

or rather, outside my window,

into a forest specked with

ochres, siennas and happy memories.

Some trees were as fresh as newly baked bread.

Others were crumbling and withering into skeletons.

My gaze shifted rightwards, after which,

amongst the sea of browns, greys, and greens,

I noticed yellow flowers, springing from the foliage.

I was pensive in thought, for it was autumn, not spring,

at least not yet, until a sound disturbed my reverie.

It was a sound I had grown up with,

and a sound I had grown to despise.

I cursed it, just like I had done many times before,

for that sound was the sound of traffic.

This poem was originally published at this link