The Latecomer

by Regina Peters

One snowy morning, I set out
Along the city street
With coat and gloves and backpack on
And boots upon my feet.

I found the house just where my map
Had said the house would be.
The windows glowed, the organ hummed
Like hives of golden bees.

I shuffled up the salted stairs,
Eyes stinging from the storm.
I couldn’t wait to get inside
Where it was bright and warm.

I tried the door, but no one came.
I pulled it and I knocked.
I rattled, called and even kicked - 
No use. The house was locked.

I thought: “It might still open,
But how long can I wait?
There’s no place left for me in there.
I must have come too late.”

Then just when I had turned away,
I heard a voice: “Come on!”
The door, when opened from inside,
Was open all along.

Regina Peters studied creative writing at Concordia University. She writes for the book review website Forever Young Adult and the Star Trek fan site Women at Warp. She lives in Montreal.

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