Room No. 341

A small piece based on my life in a hostel’s single room, numbered 341.


Just a room for
the classic rock beats
and the roller coasting seats,
the heavy bass
and cheery rhythm,
the sessions of solos
and the solos of sessions,

Just a room for
jumbling together assorted spices
and stumbling with scattered pieces,

Just a room for
the smokes to turn into ashes
and cash that turn into elixir and stashes.

Just a room for
the huge dreams
and endless thoughts,
the exquisitely simple designs
and no ways of their outcomes.

Just a room for
sitting alone and laying together,
standing alone and staring together,
burying milestones that count.

Just a room with
bull’s eye on the head
and cat’s eye on the ear.

All in all its just a room,
Is it enough or is it sufficient?
Is it a need or just the end?