Last night I was close to your house;
it seemed it called to me like an old friend:
"Won't you pop inside to say hello?"
Once, you would have welcomed me;
your eyes shining, your smile bright,
drawn me in with warm hands and kisses:
no invitation needed.
But now I know you'd freeze;
a small tight smile, arms folded, eyes averted,
your mind and heart as closed
as you wished the door still was.
You wouldn't ask me in.
I ignore the calls of your house;
it doesn't understand any more than I do
as I walk away...
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.