Five-Star Lonely
His box-of-a-room,
furnished with imagination.
His one window,
a brick wall view.
His sink,
a crusty faucet for company.
His cupboard-laden-dust,
a spider lair’s entertainment.
His writing table,
endless pages support.
His stubby pencil’s shavings,
time’s puzzle of memories.
His coffee mug,
every morning’s greeting.
His one chair,
all that’s needed.
His faithful bed,
for wide-awake dreams.
His ceiling,
insomniac movies every night.
His personified kingdom,
survival’s safety net.
Some call this life madness.
Lonely knows it’s Five-Star paradise.
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Love ya!
Jane
Got me thinking about those celebrities with all the perks of fame. Staying in five star hotels wherever they go, but isolated from family and friends and purposely isolated from fans and paparazzi. Living a lonely existence that often leads to drugs and death. The other side of the coin.
Ron
Actually, I have a few more trinkets. And I'm kinda comfortable.
I'm proud of my solar-cells powered by the sun. They only illuminate two lights, but I'm on my way.