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Drum Beats
March 31, 2015
At night my Dad played the drums.
I used to hear it through the walls. Mom and Dad would yell, and then Dad played the drums. I never knew why mom would cry. The next day we laughed. Mom’s smile was thin. At night, again, the drums would begin.
One night the drums had been played too hard. Lights flashed outside as uniforms approached.
Dad went away.
At night mom still cries, but I can’t hear the drums.
© Samantha S., Oviedo, FL
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