You go to bed from your calm TV room, <br />(with paneling, you initially dismissed) <br />a room made finely for your moods, like demure <br />rain, stopping and starting unpredictably, <br />challenged by Nancy Grace, and missing smiles. <br />It is movement more planned than before, more <br />careful than the quirky, erstwhile dancing <br />I recall. Nights are the 'goodbyes' staged to be <br />less hurtful, not the impression of taking a trip: <br />visiting your sister in North Carolina, when <br />there was wistfulness but vibrant food. <br />Now five new rooms have lent their comfort, <br />(and mountains subverting your fear of heights) : <br />each room: practically new and serenely old.<br /><br />Lamont Palmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/planned-movement/
