My Front Door Poem by Paul C. Maybury Jr.

Last week there came a knock on my front door.
I sighed and squirmed, hunched down and closed my eyes.
But it came again, that sound we can’t ignore,
Could say that I’m too busy, indisposed, or other lies.

But then it came again, peremptory and ancient sign
That someone waited, so reluctantly I crossed the floor.

There’s a window at the top of my front door,
By poor design it’s set above all likely height
A visitor might attain, this side of hooper's floor.
All lesser mortals are kept well out of sight.

I spent a moment wondering who it might be,
For I expected no one, no one to visit me.

So I rose up, and walked to my front door,
Stood on my side and silent cocked an ear;
Hoped the knocks were ended, there’d be no more.
No more that sound of visitors that I fear.

Of course they came again, one, two, three.
Not soft but loud, they wanted me!

I touched the burnished latch on my front door,
for other’s need, to turn it left against my will,
My silent steps reluctant on the floor.
I touched it, but my hand grew still.

They came again, relentlessly!
O leave me! Leave me, leave me be!

For this is mine! It’s my front door!
No other has the right to ope.
So let them knock, yes, let them roar!
I turn and go, leave THEM to hope!