The Room
Musky mahogany furniture shows its years.
An old box spring on the bed has a scent
of mildew, but a pleasant scent.
The mattress is a bit lumpy from many
nights of dreaming,
yet still quite comfortable.
On the bureau is a faint gray ring from
where the wash basin once sat.
The mirror above is distorted with a brown tint.
The window lets in beams of the early morning sun
which glistens off of the near motionless dust.
A slight breeze gently moves through the window
where it’s opened a crack, moving the yellowed curtains . . .
But nothing breathes in this room,
‘cause old man Olson lies cold in his bed.
Tom Bradley 1976