I Was In That House Again Last Night

I was in that house again last night

Where the secret stairway beckons in my sleep,

Always attended by a little girl

Smiling up at me as I begin the climb so steep

Into the comforting rooms known to

No one but me.

The house that calls to me when I

Have the most need for peace and quiet

And the young girl is me, suspended in

Time, always young and innocent.

Her smile encouraging and welcoming, as

Only a true friend’s could be.

Up the steps I find, like Malkovich’s 7 ½ floor,

Secret rooms that offer tranquility,

Everything safe, and reliable and secure.

An old musty Victorian house, to most, maybe even

Ghost-like, but for me it holds

All refuge from the stresses of life.

In those secret rooms I find my authentic self, and

Never reasons to pretend with a façade that,

Like a veneer covering, will sooner or later tear

Away and expose my wounds.

So I enter unafraid, confident and assured,

Treasuring this visit again,

No matter that I’ve been here many times over,

In dreams that repeat but are always unsullied,

Generating renewed optimism that I can be

Happy again, maybe not soon, but someday;

That dreams can come true.

~Naida Lavon

Acrostic Style