My World

I like to imagine the world was but a room
and I an inmate in it.
And in it I could sleep day and night
and watch the shadows of the fan's blade tracing
circles on the wall.

If the room was the world
I could stay inside it always,
and I would sit in my chair with my
mind adrift and watch the leaves
as they are blown away.

If that room and the world were
one and the same,
and I could live inside it,
I would drift happy from morning
to night, dreaming dreams of dreams
and watching the light
hovering like flies
on my brain,
shifting and melting
and flowing into
the wall...whatever.