Doors are the best story tellers
“Open me, shut me up
Enter or appear at will
Paint me, colour me, clean me
Or leave me to rust and sulk
Sometimes even kick me awake
I’m not a door.”
She quietly read the last words
In the book she didn’t quite enjoy reading
So didn’t mind shelving it again.
Then she walked out into the night
Angrily scratching the surface
Of the door as her final sign of protest
But closing it gently behind her.
The door kept quiet, accepting
Another story to carry into the future.
09 November 2017