The crows broadcast my entrance at her gate
There is no sneaking up upon this one
Despite being unannounced, she says, “You’re late”
Her eyes are glowing like the setting sun.
We walk past gardens colorful with blooms
Jasmine flowers tiptoe toward her door
The voice of EmmyLou soon fills the rooms
A “Danny’s” coffee mug sits on the floor.
Old Emily and Poe rest on the shelves
With lace and leather, moonlight, gypsy bells
The folks within this place can be themselves
The dog knows all the secrets, never tells.
The one who lives here tends a wild flame