Living So Far Past The City

I hear a knock at the door.

In haste, I flatten my black velvet dress: the one I have been wearing in mourning, every day, since I was 25.

“Who could it be,” I wonder, turning over the locks and knob, nervous to open the door.

“I have no idea who it is and still I am opening the door,” I rationalize.

“If this isn’t CRAZY, I don’t know what is,” I say, swinging the door wide open.

With the door open, my brain works quickly to register who is standing in front of me.

“Oh, hello YOU,” I say, happily, recognizing, instantly, the familiar face...

“I don’t get a lot of visitors up here,” I laugh.

“Come on in.”

-S.C.S.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9qti5o/frigid/?st=JNNX86JG&sh=2e3d5e50

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