UNTITLED

I just got a new home.
Under construction it was.
And always will be.

A home with two rooms.
With corners I don’t know how many.
With painted walls.
One olive green and other blue.
And crimson brick in places.

The roof is leaky too..
And has a big damp patch
That is turning yellow.

I took an old wardrobe
Filled it,
With clothes that didn’t stop smelling new.
Poetry that always had to rhyme.
And photos where my eyes never smiled..

It took it to my doorstep.
Where it will never hurt my toe.


Finally some clutter is gone..
Some isn’t.
Some never will.

But finally I can see the skyline…
And the sparrow couple feeding their kid.

So now I can put up those turquoise curtains…
And that frame of the Nevada sky.


Lying down on my bare floor.
As the fan creaks above…
Whistling to myself…
Doing nothing,
But smelling those new shades of bamboo,
that are Filtering the sun into tiny rivulets
on to my bowl of crystals…
Listen to the pigeon cooing at my window..
Lazily serenaded by the slow trickle of coffee.

And oh,
My faithful plants need water.
But tomorrow.

I will just sleep tonight.
It’s kind of tiring you see..
Moving in.

Moving on.