The Broken Apartment Window
The Broken Apartment Window
It was a chaotic literary mess
It looked as if a tornado had struck it.
There were books and papers everywhere.
The floor and the carpet could not be seen,
There were just hints of fungus getting green.
There were piles of books from the floor,
To the ceiling with shelves filled to capacity.
There were more books in that apartment,
Then there were in the local public library.
The man was a writer who lived on his own,
He did have the luxury of a mobile phone.
There were files, a computer and a brand-new laptop,
Shelves with manuscripts from bottom to top.
There was no space to move around that room,
It was every librarian’s paradise from ceiling to floor.
There were several rats who were lost on that apartment floor,
The rodents escaped with their lives, through the broken window.
The writer had written all his stories till the bitter end,
He had no family, but scores of online friends.
One fine day it was time to leave his literary work,
Writing every day of his life was his greatest perk.
The apartment was a fine literary mess,
There was even a large board of chess.
The writer’s work was shared online,
His literary work preserved for all time.
