A Poem a Day (499): The hotel room

 
The hotel room
 
We wander through empty rooms,
stroll lit, indelible silences.
Catch the mood in your eyes,
steal sunlight with your arms.
 
One table, one chair, one bed.
There’s a paucity to the room,
laid out strictly for one person.
Even the rug recoils from two.
 
The moon moves slowly into orbit,
casting a pallor on the steel balcony
upon which we squeeze ourselves,
ready for the night and its alone
 
time, the sky a hazy dash of non-
colour. It opens still and cloudless.
We raise our glasses, clink,
taste Prosecco on our tongues
 
and repaint the day into a Pastoral.
In our imaginations we will fit.
The bed will widen, accommodate
our mutual sleeping patterns.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 2, 2022