A knocking softly, deep inside, A whispered wish I cannot hide, “Come in,” it pleads, “find solace here, Dispel the loneliness, the fear. Be haven still, both safe and deep, While all my fragile secrets sleep.” But bolts are drawn, defenses high, A watchful, wary inner eye. The welcome mat lies hidden, out of sight. “Not yet,” I murmur, “not tonight.” Though yearning paints the door with grace, I fear the key to that locked space. Unready host, with empty chair, Both craving presence, dreading care. The knock persists, the wish remains, Confined by self-imposed chains.