Through the Plaster

The fridge hummed, a lonely friend,

my pen tip paused, about to bend

the paper's edge, a quiet space.

Just lines and thoughts, no hurried pace.

Then sharp and loud, it cut the air,

a laugh from somewhere, over there.

Through plaster thin, a sudden shout,

all uncontained, let fully out.

My pen just stopped, a tiny stain.

The quiet shattered, felt like pain.

The air still shivered, after it's gone.

This room not mine, till morning dawn.