Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Ode to the Noon Chime

The sun high in the pensive blue
Reflects on the diverse multitudes
Of sprinting, gliding patrons.

Twelve times it strikes,
Towering above while overseeing the spirits,
Unaware of the others rushing below.

Unnoticed the limp hands turn on,
Depended on, but unappreciated
Even though without it, all would be lost.

A deep rebounding resonance,
Crisp in the breeze,
Signals life to hurry on.

Still the multitudes drone
As the slab of brick continues unsatisfied
But knowing it must never quit.

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