The Unwelcome

My countenance, a melancholy After strange footsteps possess our balcony, Close to my two-room apartment, Now limitlessly a source of contentment.. I do anxious listening, The hairs on my skin glistening; My ears coming alive, a-twitching: Those of an eavesdropper soon a-snitching. A near filtering of the snatched sound, As they keep gaining ground; The fullest conviction that they didn’t belong to a friend. Or if they did, who was heading for another end. To my window walk up, risking important life To part its blind by a couple inches; My grimaces, summary of the inner strife Of one inwardly wrestling with prickly pinches. It’s a forced recreation of “curiosity killed the cat” And Unlikelihood of soon lying on my mat: More contortions of my face. Like a marathoner badly ending a good race: Several repetitions of “Who goes there?” And you shall have to tell me, “From where”.