When You Come Inside My House

you come without knocking
the door is closed and i am lying on my bed
the windows are open
and to my surprise you are here
sitting on a chair beside me
you look at me and i look at you too
we do not talk for you are very silent
they tell me about you long before
even when i was younger then
now i agree about how you look
your eyes are gentle
your presence comforting
to my aches and loneliness

it is our first meeting today
and i have nothing to say
you come upon authority of my Creator
and so on your wide black wings
i shall take my first and last ride
gently i must go and fly with you
to the place reserved by my destiny.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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