Fifteen

A room
A bed
A light
A paper flower

A chair
A cushion
A carpet
A painting on the wall

A towel
A heater
A mirror
A set of deep drawers

A door
A lock
A hook
A bedside table

A mint chocolate, with compliments

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Fourteen

In this world of smoke and mirrors
In this mind of self-deceit
Let me receive my comeuppance
Lend me tuppence for the cheek

In this room of light, of shadow
In this mind of grateful conceit
Let me suffer for compassion
Send my rations to the street

In this remnant of a calmness
In this mind of the minuscule feat
Let me transform by forgiveness
Blend the richness with the neat

In this collective of unconscious
In this mind of future distant beat
Let me anchor with my mantra
Mend the tantric, astride the leaf

In this struggle of no ending
In this mind of pre-cast concrete
Let me disturb me from my seat
Fend off to meet the however weak

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Thirteen

The Bow room is quiet
With only one door
To keep an eye on
Yet
With four windows
To escape through

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Twelve

Breakfast was Muesli
Or Toast
Positively no bacon

Tea, or dinner if you prefer
Was Macaroni Cheese
Or Wheat-Free Vegetable Risotto

If you ever did wonder
Why I don’t want to reside here
There you have it; breakfast, dinner or tea

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Eleven

The sound of the vacuum cleaner
Masks the sound of the footsteps

The sound of the footsteps
Masks the sound of the voice

The sound of the voice
Masks the sound of the busy mind

The sound of the busy mind
Masks the sound of silence

The sound of silence
Masks my own lack of awareness

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