The Room

sunlight moved slowly across the floor, dust motes floated lazily in the afternoon haze of my quiet room. somewhere a clock strikes the time and a little bit more life drifts idly by while i watch. i haven't been sitting here to long, only a couple of hours, oh but it feels like forever staring at the specks as they float around my head. a song comes to mind and is just as quickly forgotten. It's a simple room(to me at least) with several shelves of books and the floor covered in old papers and clothes i forgot to wash. "It's more stuff than anyone could ever use or keep track of" i say to the dust, but it doesn't answer, it never does. someday i'll leave this place forever, only to come back ocassionally. The room will change and so will I, but I will always remember the days i spent thinking, and talking with the dust.