Commonplace

A well known, "hole in the wall," kind of place. The thin door is my only separation from the outside world. The traffic that can be heard never ceases, at least not for long.
Common drapery, common commodities, colors of common upon the walls slowly become more visable with the sun's new again arrival and the chattering amongst those nearby awakens.
The sun now lazily ascends atop the horizons and with it, the induction of life again as it's a brand new day.
Consistent commotion and shuffling to and fro, in and out, serve almost as if an invitation or reminder that my participation and appearance are now due.
Though repetitive and much more common than, "just so," my seclusion inside these walls allows an almost comforting confinement, my own solitude and oneness.
If only these walls could talk - adventures and misadventures alike would likely be told of the passers through here... but this simple, square room has never a story to tell nor a word to utter. Instead, a mere stripping and changing of linens and an always anticipated arrival for the next brief possessor of it's common adoption.