The Door


Today in my Creative Writing class, we looked at pictures, wrote stories about them, and shared with the class. This particular one was requested (by my teacher) to be a poem, and I thought it interesting enough to share.

Door, oh door.
How you open to thee
you seem to adore
The hand that’s on me

When I try to open you
To see what’s inside
All I see is the blue
And clouds in the sky

So when I looked down
To walk on the floor
There is nothing around
But you door

Can anyone guess what the ending suggests?

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