The Doors

The charming face of apple tree this morning has brought me here to this page to interpret that the moment I look at those deep eyes a machination of pine forests pulls me into And as for the deep red shutters at the front door they, even when closed, seem to motion at me into the clouds of a see under a full moon A hypnotizing call I am afraid of answering When the shutters are ajar in a half smile it's a wild flame of deep orange colors ready to accompany me for miles and miles while pushing me deep into its tipsy odour A thousand birds come out as I stare at her a current in the spine as the branches begin to stir