Two Rooms

In that room,
I'd dream of flying planes
Across the world.
My mind was filled with stories
Of discoveries and science.
There were only possibilities.

In that room,
I ran a transport company
From under a stool
While the Fab Four stared down
From posters on damp walls
And listened to my singing.

In that room,
I was a work in progress,
The yet to be me.
And my parents' words and love
Began to mould and shape,
Preparing me for departure.

In this room,
I think of making planes
From the household bills.
My mind gets frozen trying hard
To navigate a way through life
Devoid of concrete certainties.

In this room,
I play the games that others have
Designed for me.
The Fab Four now number only Two
And though the walls are dry,
Yet still I serenade them.

In this room,
I'm still a work in progress,
The very nearly me.
And my soul mate's words and love,
Provide encouragement and hope
And reasons for remaining.