It's not here with me
within the space defined,
by walls most often lined
with failure in frame,
pictures and names
all matching the color scheme.
Creating a theme
though it may be haphazard
still the definition is mine.

It's fine, all layered
for winter, with wood
that won't splinter, in
earth tones that match
each mood I might hatch,
the deep essence of color
to paint in the chill.

Surrounding the me
that is now set,
for temperate.
The change of the seasons
here with four walls
still the snow covers all
pages of a coloring book
found packed away.

Here today, now the decoration
the icey celebration
of child like imagination
to cover the normal
of early modern Mom
in mixture of fixtures.

Still, Christams is coming
here in the spare room.

WhiteRose 12/10/02