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in this house of mine
there are many rooms and windows and stairs
you are invited
to take your rest and mind each piece
of myself
displayed and open for view
and even for touch
and even
for your tasting
not even for a moment but for a long time
for as long as all these shall last

but there is one door that you cannot open
one window that is closed
one room which is dark

there is nothing there except my secret longing
no one opens it for no one can
no one sees what is inside it for no one can

there is this fruit in my tree of paradise
that you cannot taste
and touch
and even see

it is only for me and i do not really like it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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