My Room

• wispy cobwebs floating around the ridges of my window


• a lone forgotten nail stuck in the cement of the corner wall


• pencil scribbles of my youth painting the walls with ugly gray


• strips of orange in a black bedpost crying for new paint


• an unused badminton racket gaining weight as it hangs on the back of the door


• an old skylight filtered with cobwebs and dust


• books slanting to the right, vying for attention and worn-out from boredom


• a formidable cardboard box locked with angry memories


• a gray and white linolieum floor, faded, unpolished, cringing at the cheerfulness of the ceiling light


• a stack of folders filled with unrealized possibilities


• a silent keyboard, empty of music, standing at its side against the wall


• faded photographs of faded faces and smiles that have waned in time


• an antique chest, scratched, beaten, and set aside for being too old


• a glass vase blooming with pens instead of flowers


• a half-empty cup of coffee, cold from neglect

Here I sit as the day darkens ... desolate ... alone ... forgotten.