Summer paint walls, and electric dimmed lights,

made pale mustard blush of the air,

its shadows all edges blurred,

indistinct and wan.

And the fire, menacing save

for the amber and red it winked,

and the flame glow of its heart,

just visible, graciously sparing some of its heat,

as its beat slowed to ember crackles.

Timid noises hovered, seeking entrance

to my mind. Voices, glass chinks and every

now and again a bolder laugh.

They could not stay, and were reduced to

background hum by slowed body, and

tick-over thoughts.

I knew they were talking about me,

laughing as I dozed, eyelids not shut,

but not open either.

But they did not know,

could never feel or appreciate,

the bliss I felt in that moment.


12 thoughts on “THE ROOM

  1. The atmosphere you have captured with this poem is excellent Nigel and the crackle of the fire adds great depth. I love the photo with the header, where is it from?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So wonderful Nigel, I really can feel the atmosphere in that room. Warm
    and cosy with the ” the flame glow of its heart” , the fire still spreads its
    You drifting away whilst family and friends talk around you, feeling safe
    and loved. For a while all is well with the world.
    I used to love going to sleep like that as a child whilst my parents and some friends
    sat by an evening happily talking and laughing. Beautiful music.

    Liked by 1 person

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