Bedroom

 A robe by the chair

And clouds of ancient blue

By the window

A cup of plain old coffee

In this room

All things lie quietly

Amongst whats true

Nothing else must remain

But peace and solitude 

Ive heard walls crashing

And this bed has seen

Lovers and days

Go by

Between my holly

And broken

Absolutely favourite things

I hold no sorrow 

There is no other way to stand

Then still