top of page

When you come

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie.

Offering me, as to a child, an attic, Gatherings of days too few. Baubles of stolen kisses. Trinkets of borrowed loves. Trunks of secret words,


- Maya Angelou

17 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page