The locks that latched my heart
turned rusty red and old
and all the stories that I buried
have yellowed dry with crusty mold.
The keys to trust were long gone lost
the risk outweighed any reward
when guards were up and nights were crossed
I sent a prayer up to my Lord.
Now making room for new to come
letting go of leavened crumbs
how pleasant ’tis to love again
for wounds to heal and sooth raw pain.
To live a life of quiet leisure
peaceful days with endless pleasures
as lovers lay at night undressing
counting blessings and caressing.
*
©Yakira Shimoni Fulks
May 16, 2023 | OC California
