The room is neat and bare.
Everything is in perfect order.
Even the art.
The art is in perfect order.
Art that is born from the mess of imagination,
Is in perfect order.
The floor is as bare as the white walls.
Furniture perfectly brown in appearance,
And wooden in structure.
The books are many,
Placed in shelves of few.
All neat and tidy,
The room feels at peace.
The room reveals many aspects of it’s character,
Yet seems so sparse.
Blank yet colourful,
Empty yet full,
Silent yet says much more.
Hay's Corner 