Lois Elaine Heckman

Life enters, upon knocking at the gate,
and passes through the entry hall, then waits

a bit, to nibble at the dinette’s breast
until it has the savvy to progress

into the parlor, and can start to learn
conversing and the controversial lures

it’s better to avoid. It skips away
to find the rumpus room, to play

pretense, to socialize and to cavort
with friends. A new adventure starts when it

ascends the stairs and slips into the bath,
where innocence drips off onto the mat.

The next stop is the bedroom’s open stage,
as years play out until, entrée old age,

it’s time to take the trip downstairs again
and slowly limp its way into the den

to rest and read before the fire, unsure
what time it has to leave by the back door.