I Have No Room For Love To Come And Play Poem by Rich Harney

I have no room for love to come and play,
Love has it's broom, it sweeps and dusts the halls.
I like my mansion, it's dark put away,
And every jade thing shelved and nothing falls.
The shadows in their places, no peruse,
Perhaps a little lamp for looking ‘round,
Just enough to see what I can't use.
What's this, that knocking on my door that sound?
It seems I hear it soft in every room,
Louder in the attic, my dreams there kept,
Rising from the basement as some grey brume
All the colors round my house have blue crept
Do I let the stranger in my shut door?
I have trembles to give and nothing more.