The door was left unlocked
Almost closed but not shut all the way
It was just so easy
For her to slip in
Find a place
As if she had been here
Many times before

She helped herself to the chips and salsa
Opened the fridge
Grabbed a cold one
Made herself at home

She wrote a few lines
Read a few pages
Playing cat-and-mouse with nouns and verbs
Creating stories
Rhymes and verse

Some would turn into poetry,stories or lyrics
Others would be painted
Quite a few would wind up erased
Crumbled up pages

Because sometimes the words
Hold too much raw truth
Misinterpretation could be hell to pay
But she writes them anyways
With a bit of mystery
Veiled cloak
Hidden in plain sight
No different after all
That the concealed carry handgun
Tucked inside her fringed cowhide bag

Things aren’t always what they seem
Words don’t always make sense
Some people just don’t quite get

The beauty of an open invitation
A door left slightly ajar
Or a poem that starts out as one
Leads to another
Making a real good explanation
Rhyme and reason
For her to walk right on in
And make herself at home

👣💗Jeanna’ Mead
6 16 a.m. 3-10-19

By jeannasoul

I'm a woman that is absolutely in love with life....I'm doing what I love to do-as a massage therapist,a writer,a seeker of all that touches my soul and lifts my body.
I find great pleasure in the midst of chaos, in time with nature and kindred spirits.
I love the wisdom and clarity of Paulo Coelho, the music that makes me dance, and being present with the person I'm with.
I write to fulfill my soul and, hopefully, to touch others.

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