Is there a place for me?
I don’t know
Is there a place where I call my own?
That I have

A small room that holds my life
A round piece of carpet covers the hard wood floor
Shelves lined on all four walls
Leaving bare only the one lone window and the door
Upon these shelves,
Lays my treasure
Paper bound stories
Giving off the smell of fresh print, right off the press

The days and nights I spent here
In the dim light
Buried in the soft cushions of the chair
With towers of books
Cuts deep into my soul
Reminding me of my loneliness
Solitude I can’t escape

Don’t worry, my friend,
I love my place
There is much to do
Much to read
Much to learn
Much to explore

Though too much despair
My place is my own
My own little world
I am much needed in my little place
For I am not needed in the other world
Where I have no place
But my little place