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Citadel [Sigrun/Tuuri]
Title: Citadel
Characters/Pairing: Sigrun/Tuuri
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 33 lines poetry
Summary: The door to Sigrun's heart is closed, but not locked.
Other: Came from a conversation with Solo involving love and door-metaphors. Tuuri knocks on Sigrun's door thinking it would be locked, but it isn't.
Citadel
The door to your heart is shut
kept closed and locked tight
here in our cramped home
our mobile fortress rumbling
over breathless worlds, empty lands.
It's best to keep apart,
not to get too fond, too attached,
best to stay an island
on a wide lake.
Locks won't crumble with a spell
so I won't sing your door open;
I can't forge keys to turn the latch
and my skald-hands won't move it
but if I were able, Captain, I'd do it.
Now I stand outside your door
palms flat on the wood
forehead pressed to it, listening
wondering if you are doing the same
from the inside, your ear to it
listening for the sound of my breath
as I listen for yours.
And I hear you whisper to me
from within your stronghold
not to wait, as I thought
not to bide until our safe return
but to put my hand on the knob
just let myself in.
And as I open your heart
push it clear, follow your word
you pull me in and shut it tight
turn the latch, slam the deadbolt
never to open it again
not in a month of Sundays.
Characters/Pairing: Sigrun/Tuuri
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 33 lines poetry
Summary: The door to Sigrun's heart is closed, but not locked.
Other: Came from a conversation with Solo involving love and door-metaphors. Tuuri knocks on Sigrun's door thinking it would be locked, but it isn't.
Citadel
The door to your heart is shut
kept closed and locked tight
here in our cramped home
our mobile fortress rumbling
over breathless worlds, empty lands.
It's best to keep apart,
not to get too fond, too attached,
best to stay an island
on a wide lake.
Locks won't crumble with a spell
so I won't sing your door open;
I can't forge keys to turn the latch
and my skald-hands won't move it
but if I were able, Captain, I'd do it.
Now I stand outside your door
palms flat on the wood
forehead pressed to it, listening
wondering if you are doing the same
from the inside, your ear to it
listening for the sound of my breath
as I listen for yours.
And I hear you whisper to me
from within your stronghold
not to wait, as I thought
not to bide until our safe return
but to put my hand on the knob
just let myself in.
And as I open your heart
push it clear, follow your word
you pull me in and shut it tight
turn the latch, slam the deadbolt
never to open it again
not in a month of Sundays.