The Quiet Room

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