Tuesday, July 23, 2013

-

When you come to me, unbidden,
beckoning me.
To long-ago rooms,
where memories lie.

Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words.

I cry.


written by Maya Angelou.

1 comment:

  1. Wonderfully short, a good read indeed
    Much more better than sonnet 64 right!?

    ReplyDelete