The Room Inside the House

I was walking through the hall one night,
Of a dark deserted house,
I could see the rust and smell the decay,
And the scurring of many a mouse.
I came upon a strange old door,
And opened it up wide,
The hinges groaned and squeak aloud,
And then I peered inside.
This was a room of un-thought thoughts,
Of words that go unspoken,
Of memories forgotten long ago,
And hopes that were unbroken.
They were the things that no one ever knows,
But everyone knows the same,
Like the color of a perfect love,
Or an unborn baby's name.
And I thought of what would happen if,
I let all of these things go,
Think of all that we could do,
All that we could know!
And as I pondered how I could,
Pull off such a deed,
The door closed of it's own accord,
And it's warning I did heed.
Some things are better left undone,
Some things left unsaid,
And some things even better still,
Are best left inside one's head.
So I left the room and shut the door,
With it's hinges still a squeaking,
And I walked down the front of that house,
The steps eerily creaking.
Though back to that house I have never gone,
Or visited that room again,
I will never forget the things I learned,
Or the what I saw within.
I would share them all with you my friend,
But as I have discovered,
There are things much too great to explain,
That should remain uncovered.