Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business,--just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?
I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.
I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.
I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.
I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.
-- Emily Dickinson
I like her poetry too!
I'm trying to caught up on all the posts on the site.
Looks like I missed some .. like this one.
I enjoy all your posts Dallas. I'm so glad you are on the site.
Thanks Steph. You and I do seem to have a lot in common. : )