Come in, the door is wide open,
Lead my guests to whatever they see.
My heart in my hand, when paper and pen,
Convey desires to look back at me.

I write “family dimension hangs by a thread,
Grow eyes on the back of your head!
Accept all the love, and the unaccepting –
The latter must never spread.

Rooms can be overly beautiful,
It reflects all demons within.
The pastries and tea, were just delightful,
Is what I’m remembering.

The night moves fast, the final repast
Sparks conversation in a new dimension,
Which leads us to, this final test,
And we gather for a family excursion.

Who blames who, I’ll never know,
The problems are never too clear.
Excuses will be made, when verry afraid
To let the truth in your heart be made to steer.

Dear diary, how can it be,
No one dares to speak the truth anymore.
‘See you all, next Sunday eve!’
And let the clouds grow past the shore.”

And in the darkest of the night, moon shines through the window,
I receive an answer with fright, and I find myself, not wanting to know.

“See you next Sunday eve…”