The foam cushions
on the old couch downstairs
disintegrate
daily
in a hush,
like each of us,

small flecks of
hardening puffs
raining mute to the floor
when I flop down to study.

And the more the couch gets used,
the less foam it keeps--

someday
just an uncomfortable frame,
springs and other inner workings
exposed.

Silent.

Autore: Thalia Chaltas