Admired Weathered, Wooden Doors Poem by Lorene Kinsey

Admired weathered, wooden doors
as we traveled past
black hinges antiqued to look
like a blacksmith's craft.

Textured, painted, bolted then
to evenly stained wood
mounted in stone entranceway
sturdily, from where we stood.

Three of my favorite materials
could not twice resist
climbing up those rock stairs
to stroke an iron hinge.

Then from behind I felt a body
Assertively pressing into
as I met that solid door
his hands slipped immediately to—

Oh, — could hardly catch my breath
forgot that I should peek
to see if any passers by
had seen us from the street.