There Is A House Inside The Heart Poem by Patti Masterman

There is a house inside the heart
Where lovers wait; no guile, no art,
No time passing, inside their room,
While at the window, looks in the moon;
Looks in and sighs at what he sees:
Twin tears of loneliness, and grief.

Inside there are lovely portraits in gilt,
And burning candles, and a singer's lilt;
Singing old love songs, to pass the time,
Pausing to write a sonnet or rhyme,
And incense and flowers, which waft their scents-
But of the beloved, there is not one hint.

Just before dawn, and the curtain's rent,
And up from below, a hoarse cry sent,
Though the candles now are but gobs of wax,
And the songs gone quiet, the flowers bent;
Yet on the stairs, there's the lightest step-
And then two bodies together, pressed..