To Fill the Room
I am moving along the beaten walls
In the long narrow tired hall way
To the lonely door
At its end
The way is dark, dried out and dinghy
Like the portal in an old prostitute
I slide my hand along its edge
And open it
She lets me in
The room is bare
With the stench of musty sheets
And dead flowers
I leave
Leaving dirty tattered dollar bills
And shriveled roses
To fill the room
Where all was
Once young and bright
Copyright © Rudolph Rinaldi | Year Posted 2013
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