Home

A still living room,

the overhead fan on low.

 

Natural light floods through,

French door blinds.

 

Illuminating dusty surfaces,

though recently cleaned.

 

Leftover mess from last night’s drinks,

litter the kitchen counter.

 

The collection of unlit candles,

radiate their floral aromas.

 

The ice machine rumbles,

once in a while.

 

Natalie goes about,

her daily routines.

 

Sleep, eat, sleep,

tear up the carpet.

Author's Note

An image poem (also my first poem).