The door will not open for me
Not more than a crack through which I can
See and
Hear and
Smell enough to intrigue
But I cannot fill my belly from it
Or my heart with aught but sorrow
My knuckles bleed still from
Knocking so long at it;
I will leave off to let them heal while
I go where I am welcomed.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment