Hotel Room

I always think a hotel overcharges lodgers 

For a sleepless night hundreds of dollars

What I get from that bed 

and chandelier overdead? 

between sheets as white as snow

as upon a cloud I always sleep slow

A cake of soap, a tube of toothpaste 

with a swimming brain I go to breakfast

No regret I go my way the next day 

It is a room not of my own, anyway.

 What if a room of my own 

What extras would I put down 

that would eventually turn dust 

Earth to earth, dust to dust. 

A hotel room, anyway, is all I need to live in

We are nomads, passing the world wthin.