Are You Okay?

A poem

The door was locked but the curtains (being lace) allowed for a hint of candour in amongst the blanks the way the moon casts shadows through trees

and although I was foreign there between the cracks I could see a fire burned inside and it fought the cold encircling like a bee trapped in a car

I couldn’t find my key and the street signs weren’t clear so it made sense it seemed to pitch a tent right outside where I could let my knocking cease and where I’d feel safe until the rain passed or the morning came and the keeper let me in.