Poetry

Red room

There is a room                   in a house              somewhere/

i once lived                           apple-red velvet and

cherry wood floors             and a window

looking out onto mountains                       which change

with the moon

I remember                           a cobalt-blue tablecloth

on the table,                            a dish of fruit

ice-clear tears

somewhere

someone

is playing  a violin

but my spirit seems to be throwing itself against the white walls

and hurling itself into the clouds

weeping 

with the trees

in the garden

(there is no peace in the melody)

i think

the woman in me

has been

like the redness of that room                           so far & near

drawing water from a silent well

arranging purple flowers in an old vase

smiling with the sun                 and the spiralling

Spring  blossoms                       in the garden

maybe

this is not in the past

(so tense)

 

but is still to come

there has been a lapse somewhere

and i am not this frustrated child

but a princess

in a

green  glass tower

 

2 thoughts on “Red room

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