My Room

My room is not exactly what I would like it to be

Always so dark and in shadow it is difficult to see

The previous owners decor is not to my taste

So a brightly-lit view would just be a waste

The futon bed dominates most of the space

Under which is stored my big green suitcase

No pictures or photographs have yet been hung

"Waiting for the re-decoration to be done"

On the sill several photographs of my son

From newborn, to receiving a prize that he'd won

Leaned in the corner on precarious display

With a menagerie of cuddly toys; a chaotic array!

In the far corner in the cold, dank cupboard

Nests a yellowed cardboard box, crumpled and tattered

Wherein I keep my school books, for nostalgia's sake?  Who knows...

'English Composition' being my favourite one of those

Very occasionally when I discover the box

Usually while searching for something I've lost

I take out one of the books and read for a while

They never fail to make me giggle and smile

These captured dreams that I have been saving

Where armchairs have feelings and terrible sweet cravings

Are all written here in my own juvenile hand

That changes in shape like Sahara sand

These scruffy books, covers torn and graffiti'd

With doodles and scribbles, not a single expletive

Emanate that undying sense of being young

The innocence of youth, the hopes and dreams of things yet to come...