A Poem a Day (625): The room with a view

 
The room with a view
 
The hinges creak open,
a single gust of stalest air,
unencumbered presences.
 
A single candle, unlit,
upturned book, spine rigid,
black pen devoid of ink.
 
Porcelain cup, etched deep,
liquid seeps in a tie-dye ring,
teaspoon perched wounded.
 
The half-drawn curtain sways,
sucked out by the wind,
lace nets blown in rhythm.
 
Upon the bed an open letter,
read once and abandoned.
On the pillow a white, white rose.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, March 4 (draft 1), March 8 (draft 2) 2024

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