(no subject)
In the corner of the room
with the red rosed couches
and the hard wood floor
the dark wood piano
and the dirty brown door.
There is a secret in that corner
of the starch white walls
the lacy drapes that hang
near the empty windows
and the halls.
Among the tumbled quarters
and the pictures hanging tall
i see a face in those windows
in those doors and those walls.
Sheer and losing color
it's a ghost and it has stalled
from leaving that cornered refuge
from leaving us at all.