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yevette-leePoems
In a house within a home lies a room anchored by frankincense borders adorned with multicolored tiles Only one wide oatmeal beige chair in the corner yet the center of the world The house within a home is loud with laughter and simple peeking excitement in small places The door to the room wooden with a crystal doorknob The feet of people travel all over the home they are welcomed But down a set of stairs made of white concrete blocks a plain simple chair remains outside of the room tempting passers to wonder what's behind the door with the crystal **** Every evening into the night I sit in the room with a composition book & a pen I write I breathe I sing and hum drawing the attention of an audience of one One who puts his face against the door making sounds like a whining puppy while tapping lightly against the woodenframe with his brown fingers I put down my pen tip-toe to the door one hand on the **** gently I place my face against the door as if he could feel my kiss through it I say " how can I help you "" " who are you looking for" " Do you miss something ? " I wait in silence to hear what quirky words he will make up ..... He says : there better not be not be a man in there " I reply ; wait let me put on my clothes and open the window imagining his ****** expression deepens my smile he says : Can I have a kiss ? I say : Did you eat the food I left on the table its full of kisses He says: No my fingers felt lonely on the fork without you there stealing my food. I say : Oh.... He says : Open the door I say : You clean your feet He says: Yessss I say : liar what's that funny odor your toes .... Truly I can smell the scent of his cologne and the sweet almond oil I rubbed through his hair just before dawn The memory pushes me to open the door I paused and said ( knowing him like clockwork) " Ok if I open the door do you promise not to pester me He says " you have my word Knowing better yet in anticipation of feeling his arms I open the door and like always he tackles me like dino does fred on the flintstones I enjoy it It never gets old .
0
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Dreams of the Heart
In a house within a home lies a room anchored by frankincense borders adorned with multicolored tiles Only one wide oatmeal beige chair in the corner yet the center of the world The house within a home is loud with laughter and simple peeking excitement in small places The door to the room wooden with a crystal doorknob The feet of people travel all over the home they are welcomed But down a set of stairs made of white concrete blocks a plain simple chair remains outside of the room tempting passers to wonder what's behind the door with the crystal **** Every evening into the night I sit in the room with a composition book & a pen I write I breathe I sing and hum drawing the attention of an audience of one One who puts his face against the door making sounds like a whining puppy while tapping lightly against the woodenframe with his brown fingers I put down my pen tip-toe to the door one hand on the **** gently I place my face against the door as if he could feel my kiss through it I say " how can I help you "" " who are you looking for" " Do you miss something ? " I wait in silence to hear what quirky words he will make up ..... He says : there better not be not be a man in there " I reply ; wait let me put on my clothes and open the window imagining his ****** expression deepens my smile he says : Can I have a kiss ? I say : Did you eat the food I left on the table its full of kisses He says: No my fingers felt lonely on the fork without you there stealing my food. I say : Oh.... He says : Open the door I say : You clean your feet He says: Yessss I say : liar what's that funny odor your toes .... Truly I can smell the scent of his cologne and the sweet almond oil I rubbed through his hair just before dawn The memory pushes me to open the door I paused and said ( knowing him like clockwork) " Ok if I open the door do you promise not to pester me He says " you have my word Knowing better yet in anticipation of feeling his arms I open the door and like always he tackles me like dino does fred on the flintstones I enjoy it It never gets old .
Written by
yevette-lee
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
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