Sanctum

Blue, foreign, cold and sharp,

the morning arrives and creeps under the window

demanding its audience rise from their warm, sleepy beds;

sunlight crashes through the panes

and spills onto the walls, painting them yellow.

 

This very room, the seat of my soul,

castle of my kingdom,

safe place for my secrets,

full of diaries and photo albums,

religious texts and sci fi novels from ceiling to floor.

 

All four walls, vast expressions of the season;

gray and somber for winter,

green and bright for spring,

on fire with the summer and autumn suns,

canvases for the changing light to paint on.

 

Through the door is my bed where we lay in my blankets

and sleep, visited only by our dreams and by the moon,

and in the morning when you leave I wake

to find nothing but the shadows you cast

fading from my vision as the sunlight comes again.

Reviews

[Iota]

A nice write that gave plenty of images to enjoy. Very well done.

[Clint Hale]

I found this to be a very peaceful read.

"demanding its audience rise from their warm, sleepy beds"

This line was my favorite. It made me feel that the world is awake long before we are.

[Poeticpiers]

a beautifully written piece of poetic prose evking instant images and thoughts