Early Spring

Here I am in my peaceful dimly lit room
with the sound of music, drifting, through my mind
a passing thought, and another, about my present life
The room is a plastic fantasy, such as life and adventure
a British flag in the corner, glowing,
from the red and black lights beyond.
So distinct, so precise,
like the memories from a past vacation
Outside it is black and white, cold and dark
early spring, Chicago, another night
The song is over, a white light is on
only the rattling of the heater,
the wind outside and the occasional sound of a car,
or maybe an airplane, traveling to the world, somewhere.
A feeling of awareness enters the room
the heater starts again
and then these too, fade away