I Hate Doors
Poem By Leslie Alexis
She stands by the door,
She, my beautiful wife,
stands there with love,
waiting for the word, waiting to open-
as she did her heart.
She has such a big heart-
Loving me- even as she moves her hands towards the door.
Yet, she ponders on letting me into the house.
It's just a wish, in reality, she's not my wife.
I've been requesting, to the thought of us, she would slowly open-
Or give-in. She is my love.
What won't I do for love?
She has stolen my heart.
I wonder why she is taking so long to open
Oh my wife, beautiful wife
Trust me, love me, and let me into your house.
She has a lovely house.
She built it as she does everything - with love.
Oh, she must be my wife.
Slowly it may be, but surely, I will have her heart.
I love her from outside- behind the door.
Oh, my wife please open, open-
to me. When will she trust me - when will she love me - when will she open-
open her door
so as to love?
When would her heart
See that- Yes, I am her husband and she is my wife?
Aww, just the thought of her being my wife,
and I'm taken to a world afar, wild and open.
In this world I have her heart!
We are alone in this world, and it is our house.
Day by day, we live in love.
It's a lovely world: this world has no doors. I hate that door.
I love my wife.
In this world with no closed doors and no door to open.
I hate doors. A door blocks my entrance into her house - into her heart.
Copyright 2009 Leslie Alexis