They said visitors are a gift
It can come and go
But it can always go back like a family
Sometimes a friend that we'd grow with
But I always wonder who's the one
Who's always staring outside the window
Away from the crowd
Who's always waiting at the door
I once decided to accompany it
But it's shy to play with me
Like a tall guy who's afraid to speak
It never showed its face
In a black cape
He once visited again
But this time I saw my uncle open the door
But I wonder who's the one sleeping on the couch
YOU ARE READING
Echoes Of The Dead Poets
Poetry"Dark inks on dark secrets, full of wonders and ends, thoughts of the night of murky life." ©cover not mine
