Here
The yellow stained light shade
Here
Decorated ceiling flowers
I arrived in a room
Here
The stattering stitch of red
Black and scattered weave
Over boards scratched white

Dust in the corner
And paper torn like a flower
She lays like painted

The light softly
Here
The night starts
Here

What if the world in numbers
Counted out like the drum
As news blurts out of machines
And the noise fades as night descends
Today’s problems will be aired without consequence
And we hope to sleep
Here

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