Room
My room is no place for poetic inspirations
There are no hyacinths in painted vases
No ladybugs sneaking up my toes
Not even a potted plant
But a bar of soap on a tiny plate
That looks like a block of cheese from afar
Clothes piled high because the closet
Does not have enough space
Plastic bags filled with miscellaneous items
Like tampons and junk mail
An opened box of instant noodles
A microwave, TV, and refrigerator
My room is no place for poetic inspirations
Unless one is keen enough
To find beauty in the un-beautiful
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