These silent sentinels, keepers of our secrets
they wait for our footsteps, the turning of a lock
You are home, they breathe as we pass through
with nary a thought to their waiting
They sniff the air for the scents we carry
The bakery again, that kind of a day?
No, not the news, love, play your music
the dancing kind, it’s been too long
There now, isn’t that better?
Will the children come again?
Their laughter tickles
Will she come along, trailing her strawberry scent?
If she knocks, will you let her in?
You really should, you know
Don’t pretend you don’t miss her
You with your dark rooms and moods
that never ends well
She’s here
Open the door, love
Trust me
Open the door, love
It’s time.
