Thursday, July 24, 2008

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,


I CRY.

Maya Angelou

Art: "Tears" by deyn

2 comments:

Mountaingirl said...

No I am not in a crying mood, I just love the poem. Actually I love a lot of her poems, I should share them more often.

Vickie said...

I love Maya Angelou, both her writing and her presence. Its her depth that makes her so special. She writes about what matters and what matters touches us all.