The Weathered Door
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I stand-
gazing at the weathered door-
beautiful the knob is old brass
foliage dark and green
protects it
an assemblage of butterflies
lilt and move musically all about
fluttering and it's
lovely
at the weathered door beautiful
and I look behind me at the whispering
foliage dark and green
a labyrinthine of twisting memories
a long path strewn with tears
woebegone and sorrowful is my journey
as I
gaze
at the weathered
door-
beautiful
and the knob of old brass beckoning
from
foliage
dark
and green
that protects
and I
step forward to open
but tangled vines
cling to me-
around my legs and arms
holding me back
and butterflies
lilt and flutter musically
a beautiful assemblage encouraging
and the past
is whispering and hissing
surreptitious
of a manuscript written
where I languor listlessly and weary
oh the murmuring memories
that hold me locked in the past
my journey to the door a struggle
but oh I love them the memories
each one
weeping I must break free of the tangled vines
of the past so I take each beautiful
tendril off each clinging vine
and lay them gently on the ground
with a kiss
and step forward frightened and quivering
placing my hand on the old brass knob
and
I open that door
the weathered door beautiful
protected by
foliage dark and green
and step through
that assemblage of butterflies
flutter musically through the opening to
a lush and green sumptuous beginning
and I follow
them
into a future
mellifluous
________________________
June 18, 2015
Free Verse
Written for the contest, ...And then I opened THAT door.
sponsor, John Lawless
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2015
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