The Door

Poem By Mary Bastian

the precautionary past renders
a peep-hole to foresee circumstance-
rather than chance.

the eye of my love glared back
distorted with age (time an enemy)
on the threshold he lingered.

he would not enter,
safety made as a portal
without light-without a window.

he teetered on the verge of
his head and his heart-
his fear and his love.

irrational to stand in limbo
turned to try another door
knocked and entered.

found caught in all he questioned
and for the door left locked-
he found the key.

Comments about The Door

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of BASTIAN

I Won'T Come With You

I recognize the look in your eye
of want in the nape of my neck
dare to approach me in revealing light
pant with a sweaty tongue in my ear

If I Could Edit My Life

if I could edit my life, I would
following production add a filter-
of gold captured shots of reality
dubbed sounds of hearts dancing

For I See Tonight

for I see tonight
a four lit by light
before you called
I thought too