Refrigerator Hum

The afternoon, it stretched so long,

a note held out, a muted song.

No book to read, no word to write,

just muted dust in fading light.

The window showed a sky of gray,

the world outside had gone away.

I watched the motes, a silent dance,

a slow, slow drift, a fleeting chance

to feel some spark, to catch a thought,

but all was still, and nothing brought

a pulse to beat, a nerve to sting.

Just endless quiet, everything.

The fridge, it hummed, a low, soft drone,

a steady, dull and monotone.

It filled the space inside my head,

a sound that promised nothing dead,

nor living, just a constant state,

awaiting some unknown, slow fate.