House With A Party Going On Poem by Mark Heathcote

Here's a house with a party going on.
The doors are open and the doors are gone
There are doves now roosting, it's woebegone.
But still, it is drawing visitors in throng.

Foxes, owls and moths, other things of such,
Things that make the flesh crawl and you twitch.
Yet, at this witching hour, nothing's debauched.
Comers — Come like they've got the same parentage.

Some on ephemeral wings, like mayflies
-Will do, they'll glide to a chimney pot.
Smile down on you as if to dramatize
The wild tigers that were given to plod.

Yawn, like they are locked in a small zoo.
But now that they've met you, it's all they can do.
To stop themselves from falling in love with you
Seeing now, it's the time to meet, greet and renew.

Let down their hair and pucker up for a kiss.
After that in the morning, reminisce.
'A moonlight tryst' a little bit risqué
Or fracas at the music-hall burlesque.