a light peeked past a door half cracked
a hunchbacked foorboard whispered down the hall
my eyes tight shut my face relaxed
my ears reach towards his tardy call
the inside of my eyelids play their tricks
the inside of my ears invent that sound
"He isn't coming home" the Clock ticks
but Patience folds her arms and holds her ground
A key-struck lock ignite my soul
while sock clad steps allay my fear
the opened bedroom door provokes the coal
that lays simmering in darkness till he's here.
