The Room

the rugged, old desk

in my room

is a proof of a life

lived hunched over it,

and my window

stays jammed

on most days

as if tired of ushering in

the outside life

into this quiet room

that has no choice

but to pretend that

it is a world

of its own,

and my shelves

contain places that I

have broken into,

escpaed from,

and have been

banished from at times,

but they keep

gathering dust

as if this room

is a lot bigger

than all the worlds

they contain within

their glorious pages,

and I am here too,

outgrowing the room,

but just like the desk,

the window, and the books

on the shelves,

I do not leave.

I cannot leave.


“The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Featured image from Pixabay


16 thoughts on “The Room

Add yours

  1. This is wonderful, Aaysid. As your other reader (above) said, it’s one of my favourites, too. My favourite lines are ~

    ‘ … is a proof of a life

    lived hunched over it,

    and my window

    stays jammed

    on most days … .’

    The image is almost haunting. Those old manual typewriters no longer exist in many places. I had one as a young teenager. It was my pride and joy. Just loved your poem and the quote at the bottom of it. Xx 💕

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Ellie. You are too kind. I am glad to know that you have experienced the joy of using a typewriter. I never had a typewriter, but I have always wanted to own one. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow Aaysid! I don’t say this word often but it is fitting for this piece: PERFECTION. This is a true masterpiece…the flow, the meaning and the message throughout is beautifully executed 🤍🤗

    Liked by 1 person

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