The quiet room
A tomb of gloom
Where shadows bloom
And sorrows loom
The faded chair
Still waits somewhere
Holding air
And old despair
The window pane
Wears drops of rain
Like tears of pain
That stain the frame
The floorboards creak
The silence speaks
Through hollow weeks
And futures bleak
A silver light
Invades the night
Soft and slight
Yet burning bright
The ceiling keeps
The dreams that sleep
The vows we keep
The wounds too deep
Each corner hides
What time denies
Where memory lies
With vacant eyes
No voice
No tune
Beneath the moon
Inside this room
Of quiet doom
Yet near the wall
Past grief and gall
Past every fall
I hear hope call
A fragile flame
Without a name
Still stays the same
Through loss and shame
And though the room
Is dressed in gloom
One flower blooms
Against the doom