Tall Rooms (Poetry)

I envied her those few high-ceilinged rooms
their loftiness that offered space to hang
thoughts that rose and hovered overhead
in airy clouds — thin wisps for company.

They never pressed as modern ceilings do
designed for a more lowly frame of mind
but let proportion grandually unfold
a finer plan to gratify the soul.

Those realms above the picture rail untouched
except by light and shadow — motes of dust
drifting free above the mere mundane
far corners the curators of the past.

She didn’t live to see the place condemned
too long let go to renovate — besides
it didn’t fit with schemes to cram the spot
with boxy flats to stunt prosaic lives.

All gone — that row of houses slim with doors
and windows once so elegant with drapes
iron balconies and railings... chequered tiles...
I think of them and something in me aches.