Frederick Kesner Poet Free verse

there is a room

There is a room
where names wait at the door,
stacked like coats
on a winter hook.

Inside, a chair holds its place.
Pages rest half-turned.
Ink settles into shape
on the desk’s quiet plane.

These are the room’s fixtures —
the things that stay still
so other things can move.

Then the shift begins:
a line adjusting itself,
a thought testing its weight,
a gesture forming

before it knows its purpose.

The room listens,
not for meaning
but for motion.

And when you step out again,
you sense the room
has altered itself
just enough
to let the next visitor enter differently.

 

 

 

 

 

.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment