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A Knock at My Door
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Old Poetry (Pre-2002) Loneliness is a strange man knocking at my door.
And every time I hear his hollow call,
I throw it open to welcome him.
He sits on my bed, on my floor,
He pounds on my heart on my life.
He chisels with a hammer made of sorrow,
And all the while I watch with open eyes
And when he has taken his share,
He flies out my door into the frosty night air.
But I know for certain he will return.
Even in his absence I feel his presence.
And I begin to cherish this man called loneliness.
Because without him, I have nothing
And that is why, when Loneliness knocks on my door,
I always answer
