Tomorrow she’ll leave these walls behind,
with their smell of Woodbines and magnolia,
which never fades or dries,
and step into another L-shaped room.
Where bottles, jars and magazines
can stay half-opened.
Where the shelves will creak,
and speak in tongues
of vivid art animals.
Where the cover to the visitors book
can be quietly removed,
as from tomorrow
it will be a diary