The Roving Eye Poem by Patti Masterman

False starts apropos
Of slated demise;
But still through the keyhole
Keeps looking the eye:

It rolls and wanders
Taking it in;
The door is locked-
Unknown if friend.

The white tells nothing;
Whether feral or tame,
But the iris shutter
Remembers my name.

I know it wants me
To open the door;
And I would have left
It open before-

But I thought I heard
Sharpening swords,
And clattering claws,
And sawing boards-

I don't know if
It wants to love-
Or just ingest
My treasure trove.

My things are meagre,
My life is poor,
As through the channel
It takes its core;

A sample it thinks
The heart, of me;
It thinks it's found
Divinity-

Just sheared pages
Out of some book,
I stole some time-
But for now, it looks..