Description

An old room, a den, roll top desk,

books in cases, a few special magazines,

three cigar boxes…one even held cigars,

impenetrable walls, sound echos and hangs

in the air, like the smoke that can go nowhere,

aromas of years distilled into musky perfume.

No one has died here, at least, not recently.

It’s nice to look out the window and see

outside still there.

One can feel the room and come up with all

kinds of stories that osmose into the mind 

from the organic memory of the space.

Can’t you feel yourself there right now?