The Small Room

He kept a small room he wasn’t in it very often but it was there and he knew it it was safe for though life had opened roads that needed to be trodden and he was often far away his room was waiting for him in it was his bookcase teal blue stained wood shelves of a life explored childhood memories books about dinosaurs and the moon pictures and piggy banks old record albums and his Titanic collection there were two hickory chairs old world charm in light pink brocade a gift of decades past and his library desk, a rare find and one to keep for its mahogany leather embossed top its drawers crammed with 50 years of incidentals, papers and letters and brochures on its walls, his oils and watercolors kept guard his paintings from a long ceased dalliance in art he kept a small room to visit for though he believed that home is where love is and can be anywhere he also knew that a seed planted can grow and grow but its roots must survive