The Door

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The Door

It was only a door
so why did I feel
such foreboding?
Surely I’ve approached
one hundred doors like it
in my lifetime.
The knocker looked heavy
and lions guarded it
with somber faces.
The door looked at me
the mail slot
a tense mouth.
A camera eyed me
blankly remote.
Was someone
already watching?

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #100 for the photo prompt. I usually think of what the picture is and how it makes me feel. In this case, I was thinking about how the door perceived me without human contact.

Walking Through Doors

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Walking Through Doors

The doorway arrived in the nick of time
at the stroke of midnight before the first fireworks
wide open, brightly illuminated and full of promise
on the brink, I took my departure.

New doors open to us throughout life
some require keys before opening
some demand a pound or two of flesh
a lesson learned, an entrance earned.

Sometimes we balk at the opening
without realizing we’re on a new threshold
like not recognizing the dawn of a new day
letting that door slam shut in our faces.

Cooling our heals in the vestibule
aware and anxious to make our emergence
an unmarked exit opens to the unknown
that first step can be a real bitch!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

So many doorways so little time. Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt doorway(s).