A Poet's Haven

Old homes are filled with memories and secrets.

In the middle of the night she would step around 

the floor boards that squeaked.

And yet when she awakens in the morning, 

knowing I am down the hall in my office.

She will use the floor boards to inform,

me that she is ready for our morning coffee together. 

As I, mossy off to the kitchen to get us both a cup.

Two boards in the hall also squeak, I will step on one

on my way to the kitchen and the another on the way                                    

to the bedroom.

She will be standing in front of the one window 

scantily dressed or wearing nothing.

She will have counted my steps and knows the moment 

I will step through the doorway.

She will rise upon the ball of her feet and squeeze 

her lower cheeks sometimes with a little shake or wiggle.

While she performs her own blend of aerobics mixed 

with yoga and a splash of pilates. 

I have of course nominated her for a countless number 

of Oscars and Tony awards.

But then again our bed posts and frames have 

written and performed many a cappella’s over the years.

Memories of our love story kept secret by this old house.

April 27, 2020
#love, #passion, #oldhomes