Closing Doors Poem by Mark Heathcote

I'm trudging in the quicksand.
Looking at you closing doors
I'm watching outgoing tides.
Drowning, I'm trying to catch my breath.

Watching the candle on the mantle
Flicker and go out snuffed
I'm hoping to be warmed.
And rescued by you once again.

I'm hoping to turn a key.
And meet your eyes again.
But now looking at you.
I'm looking at you closing doors.

Like moths to the flame
I flap my wings and hover for some sign.
A taste of the divine
That I took for granted and ended up burnt and alone this way.

I'm trudging in the quicksand.
Looking at you closing doors
Hoping a porch light will shine star-bright
And I'll be pulled in like a candle guided back to life.