My Room

My room is painted in hues of pink,
And the colours of my dreams.
In it lies my table and bed,
And my inner most thoughts.
On the wall facing my bed,
Is the portrait of the Sacred Heart.
An old faded one in sepia tone
Framed in wood, painted pink.
On the opposite wall, is my clock,
A gift from my uncle abroad.
A rectangular clock, in flashy maroon;
Ticking away the moments of my Life.

My routine is like clockwork;
At six begins the rat race
For the bare necessities of life
A minute wasted as precious as Life-blood
Time brings in its wake happiness and success,
Moments of exhilaration and jubilation
Moments, which are wished to last forever.
Time also brings with it sorrow and failures,
Pangs of separation and dejection.
Dark hours, which seem unendurable.

My Comfort is near;
I wake up under the gaze of those Eyes.
Not the ones on faded paper, with a cold stare
But vibrant Eyes radiating warmth.
Eyes, which look into the depths of my heart
Eyes, which tell me that I’m not alone;
That I’m safe in the Heart that bleeds for me.