Author Mary Carolyn Davies The littlest door, the inner door, I swing it wide. Now in my heart there is no more To hide. The farthest door—the latch at last Is lifted; see. I kept the little fortress fast. Be good to me. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments