Locker

I am rectangular and cold, I have no preference.
Whenever I open I intake whatever I receive.
Just as it is, untouched by warmth and love.
I am not picky, only waiting -
The mouth of a little god - ongoing.
Most of the time I sit alone in my little place.
It is so small, it is alone. I have sat here for so long.
I think it is part of my body. But it differs,
Books and light make us different over and over.

Now I am opened. A girl stares into me.
Searching my reaches for books of unknown classes.
Then she turns to those liars, her friends and her enemies.
I see the book leave and darkness creeps in faithfully
She rewards me with tears as she closes my door.
I am her friend. She will come again.
Each day it is her face that lets in the light.
In me she has cried a little girl, and in me a young lady
Rises to meet her day, like a lovesick child.

from the heart...
Me - June 4, 1990