I knocked on the door of her soul <br />peered into its window <br />tried to see her there at the table <br />where she sits each day; <br />I listened for her heart beats <br />tried to divine her secret place <br />her mystery needs. <br /> <br />But no; <br />my trek and voyeurism <br />came to naught; <br />she kept all her secrets in her pillow keep <br />and I had at last <br />to knock her door <br />and wait for her to turn the lock <br />peer out <br />and ask <br />'Hi, do I know you? ' <br />She did not; but my eyes had fixed her <br />many times <br />and she knew them, their gaze. <br /> <br />She looked at me- <br />looked at my eyes- <br />beginning to slowly recognize <br />they had sought her many times. <br /> <br />I hoped they could speak for me <br />that they could communicate what words could not convey. <br />But, I could only stand there and allow proximity <br />to inveigh what I could not, make my silence speak; <br />place my soul in the palm of my hand <br />for long seconds <br />while she looked and looked <br />a puzzle-stranger at her door. <br /> <br />She finally said. <br />'Come in, have something to drink; I have made some tea. <br /> <br />I think she recognized me finally <br />as someone who from afar <br />had given her their heart <br />and she was kind enough <br />not to slam the door <br />on it <br />and I. <br /> <br />It was not love <br />but kindness here <br />but that dear reader <br />is what allows True Love in the door <br />and she did. <br />And that was the main thing I needed to know about her <br />and that was what made me love her. <br />first from afar <br />and now <br />up close.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-palmed-heart/
