Commune with me…

There is a door to your soul

big, and thick, and solid.

So, though I could try

I know I cannot enter

on my own.

For, there is no knob–

‘least, not on my side.

There’s nothing

–just the door.

And so I knock

then knock again

alone in my darkness

–wanting in.

Then, once in a while

–the times very few–

the door swings open

a crack

and light from within

splashes me

teasingly

quenching my need to know you

as a few drops of water

would wet a parched tongue.

And so I continue to knock

I knock

then knock again

Wanting more than just a splash

–wanting in.