But not a season’s gift or warm embrace;
But not those secured by steady sailor’s hand;
But not of pleasure.
No breeze save the gale internal,
Stirs the tepid
stifling air within
Dust piles high on forgotten mantle
Coat rack naked—
Has stood thus for...well, who cares how long?
Who would want to come?
(not into this dark dwelling, that’s for sure—
And I can’t blame them, after all)
So the shades are pulled
Yet one oblivious shaft of sunlight drops in, splashing my feet with warm invitation
Come out and play.