Wolf and the Owl
Poetry, Lyrics, Translations
and Musings by Alex Etchart

The Room

By on Sunday 30th January, 2005

A bell rings,
A door flings
Open, a flurry of things,
Not quite children,
Imaginations broken,
Flood the corridor wings.

A fight! A fight!
The critters’ right
To crush the lingering hours,
Of laughter, boredom,
Angst and might,
They may as well go sour.

A lone child
Idly sits,
Alive at the very most,
Prominent daydreams
swoosh and swish,
Hope their hungry host.

He soars! He sings
On colourful wings!
O’er mounts and valleys he flies,
Swooping above
Fresh water, he skims,
One touch can turns the tides.

He soars! He sings!
No one listens…
For he is not yet to know,
How to share
The secrets that he’s
Far too proud to show.

Until that day
He will remain
A baby in the gloom,
A bitter boy,
No friends ahoy,
Life’s virgin in The Room.

Posted in: Poems

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