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Poem

Within the chamber, within the time allotted
The guest had overstayed his welcome
Far beyond the clock which saw no cause permitting it
Now occupied is Mr. Smith upon the bed
Being dead is no excuse for self indulgences
Excesses best left unsaid, and yes, unpaid

The room held itself together with some boards
Certainly some nails came into play
Creaking noises added to the joy of Hotel Jones
But there are limits to an occupancy delinquency
                                                                                                  
Four walls hold more than secrets for the halls
Which echo through the key hole’s empty hollow
Ceilings and floors don’t morn or pay the bills
Could say no more before the morning call
Could say nothing for Mr. Smith right now or then
When he died the night before and to that end

Two windows look into the future not quite there
Reveal the other side of life outside felt by the living
Where stairs that lead out there are tread no more
 
Would laws allow some grace for the departed
Check out time is 1:00 o’clock according to the clock
Where is the payment for the extra hours spent
From no one within the chamber that’s for sure
And nowhere to be found behind the door
As Mr. Smith for sure was very poor

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