I stare into the painted walls
and toys encased in glass
this room: a nest for
my existence
of 30 years
I take a deep breath
this merciless pungency
assaults my olfaction
the smell of growing molds
the ceaseless battering of time
I've breathed my existence
for 30 years
in this room
And in a snap
My delirium stopped!
The haze cleared
to this thought:
I am getting old.