Happy times
Yes happy times I’ve spent here
Yet also a few sad times
A place for passing through
Has become
A place for retreat
With a bedroom
A desk, a lamp, a shower
A sitting chair, a wardrobe
Also a spider
And yesterday, on arrival
A floor, covered
In dead flies
Maybe the cleaners
Were Buddhists
Who could not face vacuuming
Once living insects
I had no such doubts
Always keen
To sweep up the dust
Whoever’s doors, it happened
To have accumulated behind
As you may well recall
