I sit in a room
of my own re-creation
I think of the rooms
Lived since my creation
I see the room
of my father before me
A few fathers back // The rooms
They were scarce, see?
My father, he’s old
And in his last room now
Wont remember the last
Few places he’s been, how?
A vibrant young man
Like me he was fearsome
And now he has withered
I expect me a wee-some.
When he returns
To the room of creation
Will he find out
The reason we’re here, son?
Who lives near this room
Of my mind and creation
My family my friends
My world of elation.
The gardens we build
In our bubble of space
Are what have survived
For the whole human race
