That shelf with organization atop the splintering wood

Pictures of old moments

An empty coffee cup tipped to the side

A bed of dusty imaginations

It's home, bliss-less and roaming

If only it would

A change of scenery would be best

Or maybe just an added noise

More company amidst the wandering ghosts

Flowers of dusty stems

Floating in air

Drifting aboard a cloudless ship

But the stars couldn't hold their shape

Long enough to guide the guise

Of minutely miles

And early risers

And this space would inevitably forever

Feel like home