room 311C

 

Dust settles in a sunlit room that hasn’t been touched in
A very long while
But for the faint breeze that tendrils in through the crack in the window
And there is a tiny leak in the ceiling
That falls into an abandoned potted pencil plant
That keeps it alive, accidentally,
And there is an old computer white and black letters unplugged
On the desk with a few textbooks
And other things like gold plated event pins and memos from dead colleagues
And the lights are off
But the key to the room has been lost
Only you had it
But nobody even thinks about this room anymore,
Not even you