a/n: This is a poem I'm in the process of writing for my creative writing
class and so I'd really like to get some constructive criticism if at all
possible. I need to work on making it sound less like prose, if anyone can
help me with that please let me know. I'm also having great difficulty
giving it a decent title so if you've got any ideas, REVIEW.

Scanning my room with great caution,
Searching for my source of inspiration,
Eyes catching sight of the cold silver,
That's resting safely upon my oak shelf,
I feel my heart plunging into the depths of my stomach,
As I hear his tender paternal laughter resounding,
Endlessly within my somewhat sound mind,
I can almost smell the comfort of his cologne,
Lingering sweetly in the warm air surrounding my body,
I take the frame into my sweaty palm,
Running my index finger across its jagged front,
Wondering how something so very inanimate,
Is bringing so much life to my, once so lonely, room.