Don’t Knock It

Don’t Knock It

 Who's that knocking at my door . . . both now and forevermore?

Sleep Stalking

What guides the unexpected guest.

Disturbing muse, upending nest?

No wish untold,

Nor egg of gold

May satisfy his bold behest.

The paradox of all my days

Erupts in slumber’s entry phase –

When wispy sight

In dusk delight

Does captivate my gawking gaze.

For though he may on rest intrude

And trample softest solitude,

Persistent still,

He raps until

The truth may topple attitude.

For all he asks is all I own,

Which measures nothing to atone.

With empty palms

And hollow alms,

May I belong to him alone.

c2010 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Simply Snickers (“gold,” “guest” and “guide”)

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Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.

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