Favorite Retreat

I like this room. Gold draperies we couldn't afford, gathered to let the outside in; sheers tickling the windowsill then escaping the gape to gesture wildly at passersby. The wife's chagrin when the blind snapped a salute, and I laughed at Grandma's cane rocker shifting nervously like she couldn't endure another round of sighs. The golden anniversary clock which hasn't chimed since I turned twenty-one. I like this room on a rainy June day when there's no where else I can go to think about important things that ought to be thought about.