On a Grey Thread/Of a Certain Friendship
Of a Certain Friendship
Odd how you entered my house quietly,Quietly left again.While you stayed you ate at my table,Slept in my bed.There was much sweetness,Yet little was done, little said.After you left there was pain,Now there is no more pain.
But the door of a certain room in my houseWill be always shut.Your fork, your plate, the glass you drank from,The music you played,Are in that roomWith the pillow where last your head was laid.And there is one place in my gardenWhere it's best that I set no foot.