Red, Red Room

Lie awake in nests of silken sheets,
Languish in crimson light filtering,
Where you are filled with alien thoughts,
Of other lives – of other lands.

Silence,
The time that slowly stills,
And creases ease from your anxious face,
And shadows play in the red, red room,
A place of ambiguity – of honey coated mystery.

Weave your magic,
Your imagination flows like liquid,
Mould places of petty extravagance,
Or quiet magnificence,
Waxen castles and waxen people,
At times more real than a whistling kettle,
That seeks to divert your attention.

Something clicks somewhere outside,
Outside the red, red room,
Piercing abruptly – inconsiderately.

Unable to prevent your gradual stirring,
You bid farewell to the places of your making,
With lingering doubt you will return,
To the magical realm,
Of the red, red room…

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