A World Apart

A World Apart

I recognise this room.
Wooden furniture, tacky posters, all forgotten junk -
This is my room.
The desk placed purposefully in front of the window,
Perhaps even romantically to inspire or
To motivate some forgotten hope or dream.
Maybe looking out on to the world I would gain
a vantage point to comment, observe and write.

The view,
My plain white wall,
Always Two and a half metres away.
I look around and see the hauntings
Of past plans – hatched and failed.
Rubbish piles up in the bin, dirty linen in the corner and
Festering tea mugs on the coffee table.

This room looks too well lived in.
Yet is it possible to live too much,
But at the same time not enough?
The door is shut. It keeps the outside world out.
It keeps me in.

Noises outside, familiar yet foreign.
I know those people, their voices, their laughter.
Yet looking through my window,
I seem a world apart.
The door is still shut.