Little Room

Nearly see-through curtains and a

blue flowery bed

A mirror by your feet and a shelf

above your head

A pile of books upon the desk and

flags up from Nepal

Discarded clothes lie on the floor

and faces on the wall

A rug with fraying edges lies

beneath a mound of shoes

And a player in the corner drowns

out your midweek blues

Bottles of lotions and potions sit

atop your chest of drawers

And your towel still damp from

morning hangs on the back of doors

This here room it keeps us safe and

guards us in the night

It keeps the world outside whilst we

use gentle fairy light

To mess up our eyebrows and trace

smiles in each other’s cheeks

To pretend we don’t have shit to do

and lie in that bed for weeks

It was in that room I fell in love with

the girl who loves to cook

Who puts her soul into writing be it

article or book

Who holds pure sunlight in her smile

and summer in her hair

And leaves a shirt that smells like

her for me when she’s not there

We danced slow circles in low light

to delicate melodies

Watched awful TV shows with pizza

balancing on our knees

Laughed and cried joked and sang

that room has seen it all

And I knew it would always welcome

me whenever I came to call

This here room it kept us safe ’til we

needed it no more

You emptied out the cupboards and

locked the dark wood door

But it’s etched into our memory and

so there will always be

A part of this little room inside the

hearts of you and me

Photo courtesy of Annie Spratt

Categories: Poetry

South

"A simple being with the hair and heart of a lion"

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