Saturday, 3 October 2015

Once upon a dream

I once wrote a poem about red doors. I was obsessed with red doors... Here goes...

Photo from here.


That building with the red doors


That building with the red doors,
standing majestically in front of me,
with mysterious trees surrounding the parameter,

whispering,
calling,
waving,
to me to cross the line.

That building with the red doors,
has glorious architecture,
that hypnotizes passersby,
with the sound of trap wind howling the area,

haunting,
screaming,
crying,
to me to cross the line.

That building with the red doors,
certainly is one of a kind,
it lures strangers in and tugs the heart,
with majestic panorama spread behind it,
and the rustle of leaves circling the steps,

signaling,
pulling,
commanding,
to me to cross the line

…and there I am,
standing still on the other side of the line,
neither moving forward nor stepping back.

admiring the aged trees,
fighting the sharp wind on the face,
brushing the dead leaves away

…and there I am,
glued to the ground,
on the other side of the line,

Watching the building with the red doors,
the doors tightly shut with all its powerful secrets inside,

contemplating,
fearing,
waiting,
for fate to befall on me.

fwy 29th July 2013

No comments:

Post a Comment