Monday, November 17, 2014

The Room

Four walls spotted

With dingy filth from the workers

Blue drip sanitation its only defense

Someone has scratched the word love into the wall

But who on earth could love someone in this room?

Maybe it was just something pleasant to say

In an unpleasant time

To make someone feel loved

Or maybe not

Fire sprinklers hang from the ceiling

They look like dust covered spurs from a cowboy boot

Red wax in their center waits for the temperature to climb

So it can melt and extinguish the flames with cool comical antifreeze

But that day may never come

Yet, it hangs patiently just in case

The sink is as dirty as the walls

Maybe more so

It drips in pain

Wishing it had a better life than this room

With its dirty uneven floor and its florescent blinking light

But don’t we all at times?

Even when we have everything

Or at least more than we appreciate

I leave this room with its fan still spinning till the next time I need it again

The next time

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

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