Now I know that we need lilacs here
That bowl of blossoms carries me beyond the walls.
This room is crisp, small, recent.
Floor of bright golden wood. Walls, ceiling, fixtures, white.
The tub remains lavender below, as it has been the decades we lived here, and before. We freshened it.
Trimmed the whole with a dark mauve, rich and peaceful.
A charming zebra mask, and a small vase with a gazelle, provide purple harmony.
This room shuts out sound from elsewhere in the house. It is always quiet here.
Some day, more of the house will be crisp and quiet, floors entire and warm, cracked walls dormant and windows washed into vision. Some day.
But here, now, a bowl of lilac blossoms beside the sink and carries me forth.