I pictured it, a small place, true
But ceilings vaulted—Room to
breathe!
Sparse, on purpose; white, and
clean
The place I’d have at
twenty-six
Lovers would come, Lovers would
go
Visitors, too—all as I pleased
But many nights I’d sit alone
Singing, maybe, dancing, maybe
Or just being in vaulted space
A space to call my very own
Here I am many years later
Sitting within walls light
yellow
Speckled with pictures,
purposely
This place is small, no vaulted
walls
Still there’s room for
breathing, being
You, Lover, come; you, Lover,
go
Not on my time—no, on our time
Some nights, I get my rendezvous
With silence, or my song and dance
And I like it.
But I too like
Your key rasping, the lock
popping
Your smile peeking round the
doorway
Just as calm was losing its charm
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