Alone In The Room

poem about being alone
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The fan keeps on spinning
To the sound of the dripping
Tap steel still as a statue
Alone in the room

Blinding white light through
The window that frames her
Face white as a sheet
And still as a ghost

Prancing winds wrap
Around white drapes that swirl
Like the spinning skirts
Of the cha-cha girls

Lashes long and breasts
That lift in time
With breath that
Warms the air around

Perfumed pillows
Sweet with sleep
Eyes like jewels
Lift their lids
And blind me with
Their exquisiteness.



photograph by Rolands Lakis


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