The mint green room was a humble size.
The bed was large, though, and hugged
Me when I sank into it. Maybe the walls
Were white, but the aroma was mint green.
I was a small child in an old lady’s bed,
And in the mornings I woke up to coffee
And blue jays. I would hear a light tune
From the grand piano upstairs and slowly
Roll out of bed. The cookie-cutter room
Was almost lively at night; the crickets
Chirped through the window and a sliver
Of light danced across the bed. Sometimes
The cat would chase it, but mostly he hid
Under the bed. My imagination ran wild
There. Perhaps I needed some company
In the empty space. I often stayed up late
With the crickets because the mornings
Were too quiet. This mint green room,
A home away from home, was where I
Tried my first taste of independence.
