Maya Angelou

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.

Don't have an account?

You will be identified by the alias - name will be hidden