Read Poems by Esther Stramler

  

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Waiting On the Door

The room is hot 
But the floor is cold
The still thick air 
Makes me wheeze like I'm old
My feet are frozen to the floor
It's a cool relief
From the air of mold
The stretching odor
So potent and strong
Makes me wretch and fall
This energy of mine is almost gone
Alone and cold now on the floor
I'm here like a doormat
Won't someone open the door?

Copyright © Esther Stramler | Year Posted 2005