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Photo credit Michael Mehrhoft
The vines crept through the window,
Tentative, curious,
They stretched their stems to touch green
But it was not moss or grass.
The air was not clean, or fresh,
Spent, dirty and soiled,
Ashes littered remnants of human living,
Beauty and elegance now spoiled.
A careless discarded cigarette,
Deep slumber after sated desire
Left twisted embers, melted shapes,
Engulfed in tongues of fire.
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Good response Di. I feel I have been a room such as you describe.
Thanks for commenting Michael. You OK?
Health is going down hill some days quicker than others but I’m still upright and getting around. Making the best of it.
Likewise Michael. Keep well my friend.