The still

I like the still air inside,
Ringing gently in my ears

A tall door stood ajar, without anguish
Stoic and still, as if for my personal relief

Resists the push of the Past, the pull of the Future,
Neither stopped, nor started, like Time itself

Walls work well too, keeping the wind out
Stuck with crooked pictures, like ungainly growths

Cut clean through with windows, like wounds,
Filtering all and sundry in and out, day and night, like - just now - the cat

Uncomplaining, a computer chair wears
Its thick blue skin like a straight-jacket

Tough and tolerant, turns my way,
Encouraging, not insistent

All the while the inglorious floors endure
With scarce a single creak, only to be cursed in the cleaning

Never mind the desk top. Talk about chaos calmed
Or, better still, don't.

Today, tomorrow is not another day,
While the still holds all patiently, perfectly at bay.