Memories

Memories

Memories reside in doors we paint:
Sometimes beauty emerges while good sense
And hope appear, without the stain or taint
Of human weakness: there's the recompense;

The frail, crying wish to go right back
To where you were, before the coated wood
Was put in place, could stop the harsh attack
Of elements that once seemed as they should;

The fearful flight from waiting in a room
Awaiting the soft tread upon the stair:
Is this the stranger who would have you swoon?
Or will you strike out, ending the affair?

Or will he simply smile? And then just tease,
From you, the taste of bitter memories