Empty Rooms

( Daryl has inspired me this morning with her photo post "The Doors." Thanks, lady.)

Certain sorts of empty rooms are like a Sunday morning--

All that clear space like a deep breath taken

Then released like roses to a vase

When your lover's hand

Finds your hip

Under clean sheets

Under slanting light

When time cradles you like a pillow

And the only punishment for lingering

Shall be kisses

And soft words.

Certain sorts of empty rooms are endearing for what they don't contain--

All that easy air unstifled by

Successful husbands in golf shirts

Or wives hoarding secret thoughts as close as shivs;

Well established respectable families so entrenched, they couldn't be dynamited out

And who would deny the concussion

If it came.

Empty rooms

Are like a first kiss

Empty rooms

Are like a close death

Empty rooms

Are at the command of every fingertip--

Sleep late

Skip church;

If you've loved faith,

You carry hope

Into each empty room like a banner

Or a long-awaited, soft sweet-smelling child.

________