My Room


My room of lifes’ floor lay covered in carpet and rugs scattered

Whole and tattered, yet soaking the warmth from the door,

Where I stand looking out to the street,

Hoping for friends, or wishing strangers to meet!

My entranceway respects all who enter my place,

Till I determine how much humaness they wear on their faces.

Walls covered in drapes and highlighted by hangings greet all the souls,

And soak up the heat radiated from warm, caring folks.

I bask in the glow of the smiles and the laughter

Left after, the people have gone back to from whereever they came.

The couches recall long, all the pleasant repose

And comfort I glean when I recline back on the pillows,

While gazing to the rafters and roof made of leather

Below where soft cobwebs catch dust rattled down by evenings thunder.

My cozy hiding nest though can get very cold

If the draughts brought in by frigid , hard feeling asses

Cannot be warmed by the candles left by the masses.

So, no matter what my overall vision,

I stand at the door guarding my comfort, my warm, glowing prison!

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