A door is a curious thing to walk out of
when it shuts
part of me closes too
whether from the out or the in
kept me leaving
or left
neither way let's it really matter
as I believed it should
and told it would
many tears ago
A door is a pleasantness
to stride up to
my heart skips up to the wood
my handle grasping hand
blooming hopeful
fearful petals
enter through
discover what
awaits delights and who
can just stand there for a while
in the doorway
neither leaving nor coming
not left here nor going
there now, let it hold me
and in the while
embrace
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