Open the door to the shadow room
One sweeping motion
and you're alone in a seclusion
seemingly untouched, a hundred years
Could have passed, would I have known?
seasons, patterns, in the light
present themselves in a landscape, a window
a spectator, I am, with a false view
He knocks softly, I am even more secluded
until the bringer of light returns,
the joining of two people, a communion
held so casually, so mirthfully
in the Grave Gravity of the Shadow Room
He has left, this painted, carpeted box
possesses an air, an incensed perfume
which dies upon the hour, decaying
zeniths of Joy- all that remains
is a hothouse breeze, a hint of something more
beyond the window of the Shadow Room.
Author notes
I've been reading Virginia Woolf and I have been inspired.
Written May 3rd, 2006
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I always appreciate your comments. Well, it's hard to be creative when you have to be creative all the time for school (I'm an English major, so all I do is write...and write...), but now that it's summer, perhaps the season will bring with it inspiration.
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"a spectator, I am, with a false view" -Striking. Disarming, yet painfully true, stinging. I see you haven't been posting much... I have went on a little spurt... You should come here more often, but then again, can we rush creativity? It's too bad we can't, because I enjoy, personally, what you write.
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