The wait

I spread a feast...
I check the lights, the water's just right for
your skin, I feel
I recheck the beds made up to be undone...
The blue your color, an unseen blue
I ease of wrinkles, both of  skin and clothes
Stop a moment, the anxious glance of the mirror
The daily ritual of years gone by
The door creaks, I know the wind
But I still run the stairs
I open the door, see the empty space
The untrodden path to the gates

I leave it ajar, hoping to hear it creak
Again...The wind knows me
I stack away unsoiled sheets
I stack away ever washed cheap silver spoons
The uneaten feast, the untrodden paths
I lay out fresh clothes, check the water
And wait the door's creak
Hoping your soul may still come in