The Rooms

Here in the rooms

Individual lives move forward

Like a bug through long grass

They watch other lives move past

While some kind of ending looms

Here in the rooms

Silence may sometimes settle

Dusty daylight glooms in, strained

Through curtained net

And later, we may hear the kettle

Here in the rooms.

Here, in the rooms.

Where else is there to be

And our presence here remains

Unexplained.

Reviews

[Soren]

Haunting and the repetition of "here in the rooms" enhances this and raises the question of where are the rooms? Is it our present location, is it our life? This poem provokes deep thought and introspection. A great poem.