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!)