The Innocent Room

The Innocent Room

A chair sits still in quiet memory,

where laughter once would fill the day,

the sunlight paints a faded echo,

of moments stolen without cause.

A clock still ticks though time feels empty,

its rhythm bruised by hollow space,

the curtains breathe in gentle motion,

as though they sigh for what was lost.

No voice returns to break the silence,

no footsteps cross the wooden floor,

but love remains in fragile fragments,

soft traces left on walls and hearts.

The world may turn without its answers,

and justice sleeps in shallow graves,

yet hope will guard the innocent room,

until the final candle fades.