The Room

In my heart there's a room
in the house on Rue Longue
a beautiful room
with pale blue shutters
that filter the light
that falls in the summer
across white washed walls
onto bare wooden floors
like ribbons of flame
surrounding the bed
and the closed wooden door

There's a old wicker chair
in the corner there
and dust from my body and yours in the air
I believe if I searched
every corner and nook
I would still find a golden strand of your hair

Now summer has gone
and I sleep here alone
and my face in the mirror
seems older and thinner
I sleep here alone
in the bed that we shared
dreaming of spring
in a room full of winter