the red room

Terracotta walls and faded leather lounges

Moroccan tapestries and Middle Eastern plaques

A hot open fire; and a pot of earl grey tea

In the red room, I start my morning.

In a room that smells of left over coals and ashes;

Bacon, eggs and oven-roasted tomatoes

We drink out of red and white cups

A black tea- no milk. We do it like the English do.

Across the pavement and the grey stone walls,

An untouched winter beach creeps towards us.

Grey sand; and stony sea lies still, calm and lonely,

Unlike the busy warm red room.

Six cobalt blue bottles lie on stripy

Teatowels next to wicker baskets.

A blue resin cup holds sticks of sugar

To make our red tea cooler, sweeter.

This is a place where the land meets the sea.

The winter meets the summer

The blue meets the red like the sky meets to sun

And intermingles, creating a indigo sky.

*apologies; for some reason i can’t put spaces in

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1 Comment

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One response to “the red room

  1. emma

    ten points if you know where this is… mum, you can’t answer

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