White Door
A cold white door
not in my home
one key
golden hope
not in her hand.
Oh the cold
pale room!
not in my dreams
who could have
known
not in my mind.
Outside
the vengeful
wind
blows angry
inside we’re
shuddering
touch of shaking fingers.
Estranged white folds
adorn white curves
and pressed against
the idea
we gasp.
Aged in a moment
too soon
the deception revealed
a parting gift
and a
parted loss
is all I know.
(click on the pic to preview my poetry book!)
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