At Your Door

Tripping over your touch
Discordant notes play
The room is echoing
With our voices
Exhilarated as
Tightrope dancers
Even would be
Forgiving mistakes
While playing hopscotch
As we fill our dinner plates
With mended meals
Light up the candles
Count to four
Your words shall
Pour out
Like favorite wine
Even if I never knew
Your real name
Running out of time
I would still call you
My other
Without horses
Without wagons
Barefoot across
Hot summer sand
Or broken glass
Even as cruel as winter
Promised to be
On frozen toes
That’s how it goes
When all that matters
Is to bring you
One sweet rose
I handpicked for you
A cane of thorns
For our protection
When I meet thee
At your door
Before we share
A musical kiss

© GÄ

Published by

Geino Äotsch

An artist & spiritual lover. Author of & - Tea Maker & Owner of - Hair & Music at