She slipped through the back door

Quinto do Moinho De Vento, Vila Nova de Milfontes, Portugal
 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.

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