- There is a house, just next door,
- A half-remembered, half-expected place,
- I can’t quite recall if I’ve visited before.
- In that place are memories half-forgotten,
- Of times before memory; some things best forgot; others, improved with time.
- In that place are memories not yet made,
- Of every possibility, just waiting to take form.
- There, all senses are amazed beyond human ken.
- There, two can truly know each other, joined closer than kin or friend or love,
- Unashamed to share a thought or touch.
- Next door, there are no limits —
- Imaginings beyond human senses —
- Beyond frail human sufferings or the finest human grace and effort
- Oh, sometimes I think I get a glimpse
- Of that beautiful place next door.
- Sometimes I think I notice
- Some neighbor’s presence there.
- Sometimes, I think I’d like to join them,
- Just to check it out,
- To play and rest and feast there for awhile, perhaps forever,
- And leave this dreary yard.
- But the house next door, for now is off limits,
- On some street I can’t yet reach, roadblocked.
- I’ll visit there again someday,
- When my friendly neighbor’s there,
- And he or she will invite me in,
- To stay a longer while.