The poetry I so intensely write

Is not only in black and white,

There are some shades of gray,

booby traps and a crooked way.

 

It’s a door to my heart,

A window to my mind,

A pathway to my soul,

A back alley to my dreams.

 

You are forewarned if I say,

Tread so lightly, if you may,

through this maze with care

fraught with the peril of a snare.

 

My lovelorn heart is clean,

My soul scrubbed to sheen,

It’s my mind you must pay heed

In its sinister design lest it succeed.

 

Surely it will lead you astray

Down a damned and slippery way,

To a point of no return, beware,

Woe betides anyone who dare!