ROOM BY ROOM

If the keys in my hand
turned a lock of your hair
I would walk through a glance
but I'd stop at the stare
Then I'd follow it down
to the very last step
and I'd wait by the room
where your secrets are kept

If you beckoned me in
I would hang my black hat
on a bottle of pain
by your hurricane lamp
then I'd search every shelf
with that flame as my guide
and I'd burn every book
with a villain inside

 

 

Then I'd march through the door
to your parlor of need
where the glass on the floor
would make weaker men bleed
but the weight of my words
would turn slivers to dust
and I'll pace for as long as I live if i must

Then I'd tip-toe outside
I'd admire the hedge
and I'd climb up your walls
to the very top ledge
then I'd pause for a time
and I'd look at your world
and I'd fashion a rhyme
for a lost little girl