Hazel House

Strolling along the calculated streets,
I came upon this hazel house,
which sparkled amid the foggy night
and radiated warmth in the windworn day.

“Welcome to the shelter of love,”
says the keeper of the hazel house,
“a safehouse from hunger and noise,
and a cradle for pain and stifles.”

Inching closer with conscientious steps,
I laddered up the open porch,
toward the unguarded artless door,
and squinted beyond the eager gate.

A cloud of stupor hindered my vision,
so I scuttled around trying to find my way,
to the windows, through which I climb,
into the tender arms of your hazel soul