In a secret room



Restore my soul in a secret room
Behind a secret door
Paint it red – to make it seen in the middle of the forbidden green
Lock the door for the society
But keep the key for yourself
Then you’ll never get tired of my soul and me
If you put the key on a secret shelf

Restore my world inside a solid tomb
Behind a solid wall of stone
Create romantic writings on the wall – to describe my world to them all
You can be the gurdian of my own
And the angel of my darkest night
Build me a rainforest deep in the unknown
Make me a clear blue waterfall in which I can distinguish out of sight

"Build me a rainforest deep in the unknown
Make me a clear blue waterfall in which I can distinguish out of sight"

Lovely, Silke!

~Much Love~
Megan

Grandma used to keep the back bedroom locked. It was "the secret room" of the old haunted house, and she kept the key "on a secret shelf." Little Maria and Stevie, when they were about four and two years old, always wondered where that key was, and how they could reach it; all they knew was that it was kept too high for them, that it was hidden and out of reach. That secret room had been mine when I was a child, and all my toys were still in there. It seemed a magical and a haunted place to them... and even to me.

"Restore my soul in a secret room
Behind a secret door"

I want to join you behind the secret door, Silke; I want to keep the key for myself.

"But keep the key for yourself"

"If you put the key on a secret shelf"

I will "create romantic writings on the wall," Silke; I will describe your world, our world, "to them all."

I want to be "the guardian of (your) own," I want to be "the angel of (your) darkest night."

I love you, Silke, and I love your poem. I still don't know how to do that "quote" thing in a reply, though! I hope you'll forgive my clumsiness in trying!

Just last night I found that key Grandma had kept hidden, found it on its secret shelf. I went to hang it up on the hook where it actually had once belonged... and there it was, already hanging there: its double, in any case. So there are two keys, identical, hanging there now. I will go back now, having read this poem, and put the one key back in its secret place.

Let me join you in the secret room. I'll put the key on a secret shelf, hidden in my heart.

*~Amin mela ile~*

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

A beautiful and haunting piece, in a wonderous way, from a wonderously beautiful lady.
Blessed Be!
Sweet Silke
Blessed Be!
Aiyana

P.s. My phone is available for calls now, if you feel up to ringing me.
Talk to you, later, hon.

I was going to say haunting but Aiyana beat me to the punch. It is a beautiful...and yes, haunting poem. There I said it, too. This was wonderful and touching. Bravo!

Kevin