Rooms at the end of hallways,
gold blossomings of air--
the space-enchanted sofa,
the light-transported chair.
I stand--this moment's witness
that the room I'm glimpsing now
holds all the dreams I've known,
all I shall ever know--
then pass down the hall and enter,
too deep inside to see
this light-graced world we live in
in lost felicity.
Copyright 2010-2012 Paul Petrie