My office has many doors
Doors
Doors that open
Doors that do not
Doors that jam
Close, and do not open
Doors
Doors that are wide
Doors that are not
Doors, like narrow slots
Thin, cannot open anymore
Doors for every floor
Metallic, to lift
Glass
Wood
And brassy knobs
Doors, doors
For every floor
Doors that swing
Others that revolve
Those that are opened
For some
Others that unlock
Rest of the flock
Doors
Behind I leave the last, to see
There, up above
A window
And in it, smiling
The face I love.
It appears like that the face you love is made for you alone and we remain running around the false images of these roads yet to open..
That's good to have many doors, many options and many solutions...a plan for back up plans stuck one still has others stuck all hmmm can we use windows? hahahaha joking! _Unwritten Soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Doors are many-choices are on hands of individual...well said here