Uninvited

I heard footsteps walking up the path to my house But I had sent no invitations I had made no appointments No welcome mat in front of my door Then a delicate knock on unstained oak and a silhouette against the frosted sidelights She had no way of knowing anyone was home No lights, no sound, mailbox overflowing with postcards Her frailty calmed my unease What danger could she possibly pose? I unlatched the deadbolt, removed the chain Cracked the door and let her inside She said she's driven by this house for years always wondering what it was like inside finally worked up the courage to knock Grateful to find someone inside I hadn't wanted/expected company But still I said nothing as she walked through the first floor and began to turn on all the lights She seemed to know her way around Removing two mugs from the pine hutch and brewed coffee for me, tea for her as we sat on opposite ends of my couch Obviously incapable of doing any harm to a calloused, caustic man like me I didn't thank her for her warmth But I didn't latch the door when she left Afterwards, she came and went as she pleased sometimes I was home, other times not Though aware of one unspoken rule Make yourself at home, but respect locked doors My bedroom, the basement, the garage All else was hers to explore, to wander For which she appeared to be content Even when I wasn't there to police But then I arrived home, worn & humbled Things seemed slightly out of place my nightstand, my wine cellar, my keys She lied and said it wasn't her I didn't invite her in my home after that