My door is never opened, and its rarely even acknowledged. I make an effort when I pass to ignore this little hatch of an opening. Only looking quickly to ensure the lock is in position as it need be. During the hustle of the day no one ever seems to question this tiny aperture in my room. But as day surrenders to night and I retire to my room, I pause to feel my door with the palm of my hand. I gently touch my door, feeling for changes that may present for my convenience on such occasions. As I lie in bed embracing the cover of darkness I squint to see the outlines of my special door. I watch for subtle changes for that only I can see. We have an understanding my door and I.
I speak in whispers of daily troubles and reveal to my door those who crossed my path during the previous days. I never truly see my door in blackness of night.
When sun crosses my face I stretch and rise. I look to my little door and see that it is ajar but just a few inches, the lock open as if telling me all is well. As I smile and embrace the new dawn I can only grin, knowing that all my troubles are taken care of. My smile fades to a stare as I think how much every one will search… but no one will ever find them…they never do…
1 comment:
Hmmmm.....I used to have a little door like this in my room...bats were the only things I ever heard on the other side. This is positively creepy and I LOVE it!
Post a Comment