The room
I lay here and think things that nowhere else can think
And leave myself awhile for the room to touch and drink
The room is warm it can't be odd
It stays so young while we grow old
While winter argues at the windows
This nether place just yawns.
The air is mellow with busy sounds of notes and songs of long ago.
Now drowsiness comes to mind.
As the fire absorbs those in the room and caresses them within its womb.
The slow unending tick of an old clock restirs memories of days
When the room existed through a haze
The books of past expeditions line the walls, grown dusty with the need of their presence.
Thomas's chair, busily embracing dreams of mice and birds and other cats.
Yawns to let him in and out, as the mood predicts
Smells of coffee line the air making others welcome but no break is possible
The room sees to that.
The world of busy people and busier streets, swirling with dead things, is worrying other places
But the room is alone
Slowly now the clock will step and all the things within this place will disappear and leave no trace
'Till those who've known and loved the room
Will meet again and in their talk
discuss the place and as they walk
The room appears inside their mind
To stay forever so warm and kind.
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There's One In Every Family (Black Sheep to Genesis) © Martin C. Davies 1978
© 2025 Alexi Songs
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