Tiny Noises
A singer-songwriter finds a sound that no one else seems to hear.
The popping sounds abounded.
He argued that it was not the same.
He could tell the tiny noises sounded
Like bombs that gave way to flame.
They went to the booth to listen
Nothing seemed out of place.
He pleaded for them to hear again
How the acoustics burst in the face.
He knew that they could hear
The popping, he was sure of it.
He lived his greatest fear:
For his mates to say he’s full of it.
But the little pops kept going.
He shook his head at the thought.
With everybody in the room knowing,
He switched up what was taught.
Now, normally you record together
There was no debating this fact.
The band would play whether
Or not the decibels remained exact.
So he hustled up and exited the room.
He went to the recording board
And the controls he did assume.
He pointed out the pops in accord.
Each band member looked at him
Through the glass. They all gave a nod.
They smiled, the bassist tipped his brim.
They heard pops and found them odd.
About the Creator
Skyler Saunders
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