Wednesday, April 4, 2012

The Doorway



My hand against the door my fear grew
waiting, wondering, daring I blew
my heart dances my feet of glue
my head pounds are my fears undue
I push the door, hoping for a clue
I close my eyes as I step through

I stand and wait, I fear to tread
holding my breath, wishing I fled
the tales are false for I have bled
I turn not to dust nor to lead
I look to heaven but I'm not dead
there really wasn't anything to dread

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4 comments:

  1. An other lovely, Morgan, and I especially admire the twist of it.

    Karen

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    1. Thanks Karen. I greatly appreciate you stopping by.

      Peace,
      Morgan

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  2. this was a beautiful poem! Thanks for sharing!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Jessica, I appreciate you stopping by.

      Peace,
      Morgan

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