Unexpected Company

Mother said it’s polite to knock

but you let yourself in

no lamps

no bed

me cross-legged on the floor

still wearing Saturday's sweatshirt

I gave no words

you gave no warning

but you opened the window

let in the sun

and the first lungs-worth of fresh air

you sat down in the mess I’d made

“tell me- I promise I’ll listen.”

and you did

to everything

and I noticed the dust for the first time

now

two armchairs

a vase of hydrangeas

and two cups of hot chocolate

because you don’t like coffee

and occasionally it still gets dusty

but you remind me to sweep

and no visit is soon enough

nor is any visit is long enough

because you’re the most lovely company

and you still never knock.