(Untitled) (Original Poem)

I sit and wait for something to happen
A knock at the door
Should I let him come in?
I suppose he’ll tell me
What I already know
I’ll look him in the eye
Allow my annoyance to show
I walk to the door
No one is there
It was the wind that had knocked
It was the eager cold air
I hang down my head
And walk back to my chair
I’ll never have a visitor
Except the eager cold air