In a rather secluded part of a large family home a lone figure sits up in his bed. Here he is his most comfortable, lying beneath his quilted blanket, strewn with the colours of a vibrant Peacock and as soft as the fresh cotton bursting from its pod.
Here I will be safe
Here the outside won’t touch me
Here I will find rest
The room, though it has changed many times and existed in many locations, remains ever the same. That one table to the side, littered with discarded wrappers, his grandfather’s ring, that one watch he’s managed not to lose or break and the cough syrup he sometimes sneaks to help him sleep.
There are many things
In my life and on my mind
Do I need them all?
As the sun rises he knows soon he will have to leave the comfort of the womb he has fashioned for himself with pillows and blankets and the familiar warmth of a laptop that heats up just a little too easily. It was almost time to go to work. To put on the ol’ Penguin suit and hide behind his wall of files.
The cold world beckons
And I guess I must answer
For that’s what one does
Begrudgingly and slowly he dressed himself and prepared to say goodbye to his one true place of escape. His Vanishing Point. His Tower of Fate. His Fortress of Solitude. For the real world was pulling at him. And he knew he had not the courage nor the grit to leave it all behind, as he oh so often dreamed he would.
Another day then
Of brave faces and fake smiles
Until I return
(Today’s poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo early bird prompt – the Haibun – a fun and interesting mash-up of prose and haiku)