My company

Myself and me keep company
Only twice a week
With the shadows of Loneliness
Between the pages of my books.

And once a week, I drink tea
With the pretty chrysanthemums of Sorrow
Who takes her tea bitter
And seldom speaks to me.

But when it is the evening time,
I settle for a nap,
Yet I must answer the coming knock
To admit Sentimentality.

For every night she follows me
Like my shadow without light
Reminding my soul of triumphs
Now buried in the dust.

Some days she brings Bitterness with Simplicity
And knocks with growing confidence,
Knowing I will admit the two
To lead them out and through.

On many occasions, Joy comes too,
Through the window chirruping
Like she bears the fruits of Spring
On her blue and golden wing.

And sometimes the cold fire blazes
To burn in my eyes.
So Anger pays a visit
Playing hopscotch on my soul.

But there is a guest I do not admit.
On Sunday he might come as Doubt,
Stealing Confidence’s place at tea.
Or on Monday with cold embrace
As Judgment shunning Empathy.

And in and out the passengers fly,
With or without appointment,
Knocking or peeking at windows ajar
To see who’s at home.

So once a week, I have company
To fill the empty space
And rent the rooms and lend the keys
To chambers in my head.