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The Room....




Sometimes I think that I can hear it breathe,
as morning sun streams through its leaded panes.
I love the smell of polished wood and candle
wax, the to and fro of pendulum,
the chiming sounds that tell of time that's passed.

I snuggle down in chintz to read a book
or write a poem; perhaps I place cut flowers 
in a vase, make phone calls to a friend;

It's always done with joy for when I'm here
within its walls, I'm in a special place,
my room where I spend many happy hours
a place where I have found myself at last.

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