The vinyl turns

Making that fuzzy sound

Every rotation

The kind that you hear

When you have been

Mysteriously awoken

In the middle of the night

The vinyl turns

Making that sound

Signifying that the music is done

But no one is there to hear it

No one there to lift the needle

And put it in its proper spot

Only silence is there

Accompanied by the fuzzy sound

The wind outside rustles the trees

Their leaves like small tear drops

That have collected on a spider’s web

The world outside

It keeps turning

Completely unaware

Of the vinyl that turns

And the noise that it makes

The calico cat

Does not wake from her slumber

At the strange noises of the night

Nobody is concerned

At the noise the record makes

No one cares to be concerned

It is careless to care

The shadow

Of the window panes

Slithers across the living room

The light from outside

Only stopping

To illuminate

The record machine in the corner

Nobody is there to care

That the window is cracked

And the wind is making the curtains dance

No one cares at all

That no one is there

To close the window

And lift the needle

They have things to do

Now their things are done

But they will not return

For they are stuck

Eternally searching for things

Not caring