After the Sound

The house is quiet now, the crowd dispersed,

but in my head, a different sound is nursed.

A high-pitched whine, a steady, piercing hum,

telling me the music’s over, but it’s not quite done.

My eardrums buzz, a phantom vibration clings,

like the ghost of bass that still somehow sings.

The streetlights pulse, the room begins to sway,

just the ringing left at the close of day.