by Luis G. Dato
I see your open door in the warm day
And windows, too, where the breeze scuffles through
The bougainvillea, and I know that you
Are in, alone perhaps with thoughts that stray
To some dear friend, or mem’ry far away,
Or maybe not, in which case there be few
Occasions better for a rendezvous
Or call to which your heart would not say nay.
Should I then mount the stairs, knock at your door,
And unexpected in your thoughts intrude,
E’en as the wind goes through it evermore,
And break with throbbing heart your vacant mood?
What a faint-heart am twice five times o’er,
But I shall leave you to your solitude!
