Ramblings Inside a Door
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Somehow in the late of nighttime,
a wooden door's front lantern brings
me to a table where strangers
from a distant tavern grow more animated
with a litany of stories
and ramblings inscribed on their life’s hinges.
Varied tones reminisce detailed inlays
of personal anthologies framing their eyes
with joy or regret, etched by languid memories
as I listen to orations of wise men and laborers
where intimacies are safe inside a door...
each one relating a brew of sentiments
over mugs of ale and wine.
Just then, I hear my own man’s language
reflected through the crowd’s noises,
piercing my flesh with a tinge of awareness...
while opening the doorknob, I begin to search
for him under a vault of moonbeam,
reminded now of the times I forget
to understand his longing to connect
with me ,to embrace his thoughts deeply
in silence...without question or restraint.
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6/21/2015
rob carmack's Screwed V
Theme: door
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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