an invitation

Do you see that little rain-drop over there on that dirty window?

(It is shaped like a capital 'O' in old typewriter font with a day old smudge by a child's baby finger).

Well inside of it are all my dreams, hopes, wishes, desires, fears, worries, anxieties, smiles, belly-laughs, head-colds, lazy afternoons and dips in the icy New Year's day ocean.

There you shall find my summer dresses, my winter mittens, my old cameras with which to record the passing of the seasons; the passage of the years.

On the very top stair of it you may hold every word I have ever made in your hands for as long as you like.

And if you wait inside of it until the fall of night you and I shall sit together under the stars of its sky and whisper our secrets to the soft winds from the North.

Do you see that little rain-drop, over there? I have left the keeper of its gardens your name (the gate is rusty and painted yellow),
so that he may let you in.
(In case you come whilst I am asleep).