You will find

You will find
my house of memories
hiding behind hedges of longing.
Lights in the hallways of love
invite to the inner rooms.

There are still splashes of dream foam
holding on to the old bath tub;
you climb the cracking stairway,
encounter tonguing shadows.
Their whispers take the night out
like window blinds.
There is the repetitive sound of the rain
splashing against the glass,
a prayer wheel of lovers' promises.
The open book beneath the soft lamplight
tells a tale of two people
who tried but stumbled
on the cracked floor tiles.