Lyric Poem · Love
He Checks the Locks
You check the doors, you check the stove,
you check the windows twice;
you'd never call it tenderness —
you'd call it "being precise."
But I know why I sleep so well
while wind and weather roam:
the last thing every day you do
is make sure I'm safe home.
Original poem © QuillOak — free for personal use.
“He Checks the Locks” by The QuillOak Editors — quilloak.com/poems/he-checks-the-locks
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