Untitled Poem

I am sitting here alone
in my attic room in the mansion
the room I said I wanted
where the visions are stored.

I am sitting here alone
paintings up on the walls
books, photos and dress-up clothes
and pretty bits of china
I collected here.

They said I'd moved
but from where I sit
for all I can tell
I'm still in the attic room
in the mansion.

Still hoarding dreams
for children
who get curious.

"What's it like?" they ask
Someone in here
invents a word.
They can tell what it means.

-Jehanah-