there's a little room with a round door in the back of my heart with a view of the ocean it's here where i find myself forgiving everyone and everything
the floorboards are worn smooth from all my returning i pass through corridors where conversations circle like trapped birds
but here, in this back room there is only morning light on bare wood, and a single chair where i sit and watch waves erase themselves over and over
sometimes i stay until sunset when the water turns to copper i know i'll leave again dissolving into the sweet clutter of being human, my heart a crowded kitchen
but the door stays there round like a full moon waiting, and the waves keep writing their one word over and over: return
