Here lies the silent witness of my true self
With open arms and without judgment you welcome me
You are a sight for sore eyes and sore bones at the end of a wearisome day
And when my weary soul prays it is in your sanctuary that the echo returns
You offer me a place to rest and to do whatever my heart desires while I am awake
You never flinch when the notes that you hear are less than pleasant or incorrect
You do not judge all the things I do that I would only dare to do in front of you
You have met my family and my dearest friends and some odd strangers too
You have seen every shade of me and all the colors that I bring to you
Do you care for the hues inside - the blues and pinks and blacks and whites?
Are the flowers and the patterns and the solids too strange a menagerie?
And what of the occasional mess?
Tell me, what is it like to hold so many secrets?
Do your four walls talk amongst themselves in my absence?
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