Closed Corridors

The perils of a pen and script

Can keep one fearful and tight-lipped

Lest one brave touch unveils the art

In corridor from head to heart

Where we try hard to keep intact

Those love-scarred walls of all we lack

But on a night of pale moonlight

When all is still save for the flight

Of mist-maned breeze lolling in trees

Thus stirring want and memories

It is not hard to yield one’s will

To invitations of a quill

I cannot speak with pen and ink

Those thoughts I hardly dare to think

And yet within me pounds a surf

Of poetry on guarded turf

Where I am too fearful to tread

…that corridor from heart to head

© Janet Martin