Four Walls And A Door

In my empty room, cross legged on the floor
I look around, at four walls and a door

I think of all those walls have seen,
If only they could talk of what’s been

They’d speak of feeling lost and unsure
In the empty room with a mattress on the floor

They’d speak of broken hearts and tears
Of being alone, first time in four years

They’d speak of learning to let go
Of people, jobs and all you know

They’d also speak of moving on
It takes a while before it doesn’t feel wrong

They’d tell of new faces, starting to mend
Of learning to let someone in again

They’d laugh and talk for hours on end
Good times on the phone to a faraway friend

Of very late nights spent dancing till dawn
Of hungover sleep ins and all day yawns

They’d speak of epiphanies, journal entries of mine
Dear diary or something, the usual line

Of finding oneself within those four walls
Learning and growing, you fly and you fall

I look fondly upon those four walls and a door
Now my bags are all packed, empty room, on the floor

One of many I’ll remember calling my own
When I look back one day, on the rooms I’ve called home.


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