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A Wooden Door, A Metal Key
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A plain wooden door, nerve-ridden
A carved metal key, in my pocket hidden.
And secrets that lie behind that blank facade
A building, some windows, my dreams.
I wandered on those blind Parisian streets.
Nobody knew my name
Nobody knew where I came from
I was different, yet still the same.
A wooden door like corpus callosum
Holds my two worlds together
I enter now, I walk out at midnight I flee
The buzzing and the hum.
Rani Turton
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Palas Kumar Ray (7/25/2008 8:44:00 AM)
Human mind is always inquisitive about the unknown.
Nice read for me. |
Suzanne Hayasaki (5/28/2008 5:51:00 PM)
I love 'a wooden door holds my worlds together.' That is a unique usage of 'door' that only makes sense when you understand what a corpus callosum is. As a fellow expat, I understand what it is like to let out the woman you were afraid your childhood friends would not accept and be every facet of yourself. |
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