No-One comes
to stay in her blue
room with the white
bedspread, flowers
on the corner table
welcoming, no-one.
Full moon travels
near, once in a while,
long yellow fingers
touch the fine linens
there.
Behind the fence,
Pin-Oak leaves
carpet the lawn,
cover the mums...
hide the path
to her door.
Near the entrance
a well-worn rug
waits for visitors,
for friends, who
left it there no-one
knows.
Deb Fowler
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-one-9/
