When I Close My Eyes

When I close my eyes, I see nothing. Just dark in front of me. You’d think I’d say something else something prettier, something poetic. But no. Nothing. At least at first. Because then I start to hear things. Voices. A café people talking, cups against tables, someone drinking too loud. And suddenly I can see it. Then a sound a ball bouncing. Not a basketball. Too soft. A football. I see the pitch, the ball cutting through the grass, everything moving like I’m there. So when I close my eyes, I see nothing. But I hear and somehow that becomes everything.