Waiting for a Painter

March 14, 2012 § Leave a comment

The room, deprived of its comforts-
one or two chatty furniture left behind,
their tongues tied tight in plastic foil
(like the membrane keeps quiet the newborn lambs).

In this silent cave, the echo of our thoughts.
The memories, nail holes and pencil marks.
After a move, the new tenant will delete them,
for a renovation we’ll edit this novel ourselves.

This is how we first saw this room
we younger, younger the room.
This is how the room looks after us
we older, older the room.


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