Last night I dreamed that I lived in a big house. There were staircases, four in total, that I could climb to reach the very top. The house was very light and inviting, and it had an extensive history of tenants. I decided to try and write a poem about it.
Spiral staircases
make me dizzy
as I climb
up and up and up
the room is simple
awash in beams of
natural light
translucent curtains flutter in the breeze
the couch, in the center of the room
is white and clean
crisply set off
by the darker hues of the banisters and walls
wood brushed with white paint
sponged
textured
smoothed in places by years of touch
the room seems to be underwater
ethereal
soothing
open
I swim through the thick air
towards the window to my right
two large panes that open to the unknown
peeling back the layers of this house's history
like an onion
the skin unraveling to reveal
a sweet and succulent essence
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