I had a study, once.
Two large windows hung
With lemon-yellow curtains.
The walls were lemon-yellow too:
Fields of saffron stippled with innocence.
Yes, even the bookshelves.
My husband, laughing,
Beard all flecked with Spackle:
"Guess there's no need
To ask what color I should buy."
Early morning was the best time.
Sun slipped round the corner
Like a lady on her way out,
Nodded to the room in passing.
I kept that room four years.
Heart tack-tacking to the beat
Of fingers pounding the keyboard.
Never noticed how the sun dissolved in words.
The yellow faded.
Requiem for a dream