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
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