Writing Journal (Day Three)

I'm not promising anything good with these poem-a-day's. I'm going to extend the challenge to give the poems titles, which is something I've always struggled with. Echoing my previous statement, I'm not promising anything good with these titles.

I've always liked the sounds of curling, especially in a traditional rink setting. So while I was on my break, I tried to tune out the jazz and focus on the memory of the sounds.

Good Game
Echoes of the evening shouts
Sink into the clean white sheets.
The scratches and the gliding
Are hardly heard
Beneath the hurries and the hards.
The stones across the pebbled ice
Are soothing to the soul.
Cheers arise as the
Click of a take-out fills the air.