The Four Rooms

From the shop upstairs, the brisk sound of a sewing machine.
Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter, in rhythm.
Getting ready for a winter morning, in time with the sound.

In the café, water goes glug-glug-glug into the steel pot, and set on the stove burning bright red, the drops on the pot sizzle away to nothing.

Just as the water comes to a bubbling boil, the click of a key turning.

The bakery next door is opening.
The crunch of cakes being cut, and a soft, good smell.

At the dressmaker's, snip snip snip snip, the sound of scissors going through cloth.

And keeping time with it, rustle rustle rustle, the sound of paper.
The Happy Birthday shop, next to the dressmaker's. They are wrapping presents in pretty paper and ribbon.

Clatter-clatter, hiss-hiss, rustle-rustle,
crunch-crunch-crunch, snip!

Everyone's sounds, like music, startle the winter morning.

"It's ready."
When the café lino says it, the sounds stop all at once, and there is only the hush, hush, hush of the falling snow.
Tap tap tap tap, the sound of feet coming down the stairs gathers.

On the white table, three sets of chocolate cake.
A special time, before the shops open.
Oh yes, there were those special biscuits, weren't there.

As everyone's footsteps come closer, you can feel that today, too, is going to be a happy day.

The end