In the Playroom
 
            The silver and bronze chessmen
            wait to be set against
            one another,
            next to Lego soldiers
            who defend their base
            from giant robots while
            starfighters stage dogfights.
            Facing themselves
            in an otherworldly mirror
            like an alien monument
            to primitive gods.
            While the slow whirr
            of the foot massager
            comforts my mother
            as she texts her friends.
            A big centerpiece
            a shiny often out of tune piano
            on which Für Elise
            was mastered in a month.  
            Opposite a huge window
            with sunsets galore
            and at night, I can make a game of
            finding how many
            moths plastered the window.
           
            When I am down
            I can always escape over here
            away from all the
            excitement and hubbub of outside,
            and indulge in
            dear playtime and my own fantasies.
            Ah, the sweet smell of
            fond memories,
            of earthy, waxy incense
            candles burning,
            fit for meditations
            at a Buddhist monastery.  
            And the moist lemon and herb tea,
            as savory as a summer salad. 
            The spicy jalapeno chips contrasting
            with the clean air of the heater
            warming me while I type
            this on the Mac. 
            When stuck on writing
            I chew on my comfort food,
            cheesy, nutty, spiced crackers,
            and feel the hairy fuzziness
            of the piano sheepskin cover for inspiration.
            My favorite sound: Lego pieces
            falling onto the smooth, polished hardwood
            little souls trapped inside
            and unable to help themselves.
            A home, a quiet place
            My playroom