Sunlight spills
onto the hardwood,
seeping through a crack
of the hallway’s last door.
Steps echoing heartbeats,
click, click; click, click,
building to a crescendo
like coming thunder.
A hesitant nudge
spreads the door's gap,
releasing an ominous creak
with a surge of sun.
A thick silence
swallows the sound,
and the purple-walled room
smells of cucumber melon.
A gray sweater
hangs on a swivel chair,
resting lifeless beside
an unmade bed.
A dried palette
hardens on the desk,
a brush paused mid-stroke
on an interrupted painting.
Shadows stretch long
against the weeping walls,
longing to wear
the half-painted canvas.
light fades to the sunset,
and the room exhales,
mourning the color
of a life left unfinished.
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