Behind Your Door
By Taylor Masse
Behind your door is a world of darkness,
Your light is purloined by trees.
Your shingles are off, traveling the breeze.
Your floorboards almost falling, slipping with ease.
The windows are old with a decaying frame,
That has been bombarded with the bullets of rain.
The plumbing is broken somewhere deep within your veins
The wood burning stove bears a punishing flame.
What could be worse some might think,
living under these circumstances.
But here while it was not the best life,
It was the best of my chances.
Here is where I spoke my first words,
And sat to watch the hummingbirds.
Here is where I learned to dress,
And I could be free of stress.
Here is where I laughed and cried, but now
You have died.
Back then, life was a bore.
Little did I know what the future held in store.
If only I could come back to you once more…
If only I could reopen, the long lost wooden door.