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In the Playroom
In the Playroom
The silver and bronze chessmen
wait to be set against
one another,
next to Lego soldiers
who defend their base
from giant robots while
starfighters stage dogfights.
Facing themselves
in an otherworldly mirror
like an alien monument
to primitive gods.
While the slow whirr
of the foot massager
comforts my mother
as she texts her friends.
A big centerpiece
a shiny often out of tune piano
on which Für Elise
was mastered in a month.
Opposite a huge window
with sunsets galore
and at night, I can make a game of
finding how many
moths plastered the window.
When I am down
I can always escape over here
away from all the
excitement and hubbub of outside,
and indulge in
dear playtime and my own fantasies.
Ah, the sweet smell of
fond memories,
of earthy, waxy incense
candles burning,
fit for meditations
at a Buddhist monastery.
And the moist lemon and herb tea,
as savory as a summer salad.
The spicy jalapeno chips contrasting
with the clean air of the heater
warming me while I type
this on the Mac.
When stuck on writing
I chew on my comfort food,
cheesy, nutty, spiced crackers,
and feel the hairy fuzziness
of the piano sheepskin cover for inspiration.
My favorite sound: Lego pieces
falling onto the smooth, polished hardwood
little souls trapped inside
and unable to help themselves.
A home, a quiet place
My playroom
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The playroom may be an ordianry room, but it has brought many happy memories. I hope that the readers can take comfort in something dear to them.