An amber room woken with failing light,
A box of wine interrupts the busy floor,
An ashtray innocently deals death at its fingertips.
And one single door stands guard over all.
A private penitentiary closed from the outside,
Weather would like to visit sometime.
But the inmate will have nothing to do with it.
A hermit over all that he presides.
Floral curtains delet the ancient sky.
The windows are punished for their insolence.
The roof stands ready overhead,
Just in case life decides to try break in.
A lonely bookshelf filled with useless books,
Holds in its heart the hope of being great.
The carpeted desert of the punch-drunk floor
Makes for interesting reading when you’re bored.
The walls are bare and flaunt their nakedness,
As innocent as if they were all pagans,
Which if you are religious isn’t very much,
How differently we’ll all read this verse.

Mathew Lewis

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/2a-m-and-nowhere-to-go/