A Poem from Jamie's Turret

I had a slightly surreal day today. Having skulked about for most of it, I escaped my housemates and headed for my old university halls of residence. Three of my friends, still studying, currently reside there, and late evening found me in one of their rooms, scribbling poetry for The Underground Clown Club's upcoming show. In amongst those, I found half a page to scribble this little ode to my surroundings.

***

Whitewashed walls and an odd, protruding pipe

A scratching pencil and occasional sip

Through the pushed-to door is where the real world lives.

But I know where I am here.

Familiar, though not my own.

A sign on the door reads 'Katie's Nest'

Well, not quite

But a pair of pillows

And the humbuzzing silence

And the knowledge of nearby friends

Will do nicely instead.