Candles scented with honeysuckle. Warm woollen rug softens natural wood floors. Magnolia walls reflecting fresh morning daylight. A snow white sofa singing of wealth. Contrasting cushions positioned just so. An elegant coffee table polished to a rich oak glow. You are the enigma to this self-controlled space. Dark curls tumble wildly over your face. The aroma of gym shoes and sweat wrestles the floral perfume to the floor. You fill the air with an off-key pop song, and spill belongings from an over-size bag onto the coffee table. Keys and chocolate wrappers. Coins and bus tickets. A dog-eared paperback. Mascara and deodorant – the latter clearly unused. You fold your weary body onto the sofa. Feet up on the table. A satisfied smile creases your face. Home, sweet home. Uninvited, you wonder who’s house you've invaded.
This poem was written as a response to a writing prompt: The room and its human. I found the picture on pixabay after it was written, and so adapted the description to match.