When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words ,
I cry
(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ ┬─┬ノ(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━ ┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ ┳━┳(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳ ━┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━ ┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳ ━┳(ヘ･_ ･)ヘ ┳━┳(ヘ･ _･)ヘ ┳ ━ ┳(ヘ ･_･) ヘ┳━ ┳(ヘ ･ _･) ヘ┳ ━ ┳(bヘ･_･) ヘ┳━ ┳( ヘ･_･ )ヘ┳ ━┳(ヘ･ _･)ヘ┳ ━┳ ( ヘ ･_ ･) ヘ ┳━┳(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳ ━┳(ヘ ･. . _･)ヘ ┳━ ┳ (ヘ･_･) ヘ┳━ ┳(ヘ ･_ ･ )ヘ ┳ ━ ┳ (ヘ ･ _･)ヘ ┳━┳
