Sleep with the lights on..............

Her first room had bare walls,
pale blue, and a built in wardrobe.
The single bed was
pushed against a wall,
and the blankets were coarse.

Her first room was cold and sterile,
offering no charm, no comfort.
It was but a box, austere,
yet practical, it offered
nothing.

Thinking back,
maybe it was that room,
the starkness,
its high, plain windows,
its bare, tiled floor.

These days it's locked,
except for her night chills,
the way her stomach fell
in the mornings
as the cock crowed.

Her first room lies
belly up on the page….
Here, take it,
make of it what you will,
sleep with the lights on...if you have to.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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