She slipped in through the back door In the dark night, only the tiniest light from the sliver of silver moon, she tiptoes inside the back door, careful not to let the screen door clap closed behind her. She moves like slow sliding slippers across the tile kitchen floor, pulls her way up the ladder of stone stairs, into your room at the end of the hallway, with its walls painted in pictures of serious and smiling children. She inches her way into your bed, like a caterpillar crawling and settles beside you, silent except for the soft sound of her breath like morning dew on the strawberries out in the garden. When you wake, you sense her presence lingering there, having almost forgotten what she feels like.
This poem was inspired by John Barrymore’s quote: “Happiness often slips in through a door you didn’t know you left open”.
Click HERE for an audio recording of the poem.
This poem is part of an online collection I call All the Shapes of Joy.