My room

The window personifies the eyes
the eyes are not always sure
of what they see.
The vent impersonates the ears
the ears are not always sure
of what they hear.
The walls embody the feelings
the feelings are not always sure
of what they touch.
As for smell and taste
I am the smell
Sometimes I taste bitter
sometimes sweet.
But it is my room.

In response to Virginia Woolf's
A Room of One's Own