The Living Room

The television larks at the sound of static, The soft couch, so snug and ecstatic. The carpet dances at the trace of warm feet, Treading on its fibres, a whole world underneath.

The windows transparent, gazing up at the heavens, The curtains enclosing all the shadows, watching light as it softens, The tables bending on their backs, masses they are holding, The chairs inaudibly watching life unfolding.

The tap sings it songs of water, The heater transforming into a searing sauna, The phone rings with a dazzle and a shake, The radio causing upheavals with whomever it wakes.

The fridge welcomes winter in its taciturn, icy body, The clocks tick, with a movement ever so oddly, Marking the day and night, triggering Earth's revolving, Captivating with its poignant arms, questions of time it's solving.

The frames on the partitions, enclosing stories untold, Waiting unwearyingly for their meanings to unfold, Encompassing moments of life so dear, Saving reminiscences from loss, collecting laughs and tears.