Thomas' Poem

The Sound Collector 

A stranger came this morning,

Dressed in black and grey,

Put all the sounds into his bag,

And carried them away. 

The creeping of lizard,

The meowing of cat,

The slamming of a door,

And the snoring from my dad.

The glugging of the toilet,

The wooshing of the waves,

The squeaking of a Guinea pig, 

And the pitter patter of the rain. 

A stranger called this morning,

He did not say his name,

Left us only with silence,

Life will never be the same.