A room, a blend of brightest possible reds and yellows.
A bed, in centre, soft and fluffy, cushions all over.
A wall, full of classics, posters.
Another, for graffiti, insane, untamed.
A few racks, hell lot of music and movies and books.
A corner, a bean bag, lamp on top.
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A house, I always dream of.
A home, only you can turn it into.
2 comments:
i neeed to say this again...
i loved it
nice poem poetess :>
beneath all tht crap.. this was a revealation :))
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