“In a Small Room Where I Once Lived”

Frank Jaques

At night in a green metal bed

Staring at images on the wall

That change at every glance

Beneath a window no longer transparent

And a whispering whistle

Surrounded by torn and faded wallpaper

Covered by a ceiling

Stained with yesterdays

Smelling musty odor

Bitter to taste

Waking to a cold touch on my feet.

It was not so bad,

That small room where I once lived.