How is a life
reduced to a room?
Let me tell you.
All you need is:
– a single bed
– a bedside table
These hold all that’s precious.
(And that which doesn’t fit,
is relegated to a cupboard
you can’t get to)
There is a window.
It doesn’t open much.
But it is enough
to allow the bugs in.
(And they make good company)
It lends a view –
of Colourbond rooftops;
solar panels.
In the distance,
there is a patch of green.
An oasis in
the urban sprawl.
A township you are apart from,
and no longer a part of.
There is a revolving door
of visitors to your room.
But it’s never who
you really to want see.
They care without caring.
Listen without listening.
And don’t ever remember
that:
You.
Like.
Your.
Tea.
…black
No milk. No sugar.
Eventually,
you stop reminding
all the people,
how you actually like
all the things.
And just wait for them
to tell you instead.
The half-moons you press
into your palms
help to pass the time,
as your mind slips away
to happier times.
When the vastness of your life was enjoyed
…certainly
Taken for granted?
…perhaps
Over and over,
you enhance and omit
the details of the past.
Until, you tell
the perfect tale.
You pick up your cuppa,
white with one
…and smile.
This living room,
is a dying room.
The only difference,
is the wait.
By Sarah ©2024
By Sarah 