It is cold and dark

With sharp edges protruding at every turn

The darkness begins to move and swirl

As the dust dances in the air

The slight hum breaks the silence

The softness of the sheets lay across me

The curtains move as a breeze comes through

The smell of sweet roses enters the room

Pen in place paper so white

Thoughts begin to build

One stroke one word and I could begin

My books lay still waiting to be read