Ben once had a basic baffle
To drown the din outside the blind
Not egg crates but the merest trifle: 
A pillow pushed down on the mind

He imagined it - a downy drift 
Raked round an arm’s length hence 
Silencing the sirens on the street without
A furry fluffy fence

But he found this fiction failed him
He couldn’t mentally block the sound 
And tortured by the traffic’s thrum
He got his ears downed