The Door That Did Not Look Back

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

What if your path of choices left you because you could not make a choice?

Photo (c) Pexels

There were rows of perhaps that many casually stroll by,

and maybe tomorrows from which strangers do shy.

And passing on this journey is the house of Sir Doubt

that so many who sojourn stop in for a draught;

for a moment that turns into many a years

and never do they leave for he tickles their ears

with fine pints of ale and goblets of not yet,

and they feast on confusion and drink the wine of regret.

Yet a traveler who was to me old and so dear

spoke of a door that of long did he hear.

The door that did not ever look back,

the door of permanence far down the track

whose door swings wide open and then swiftly closes

the door who knows his way to once was and supposes,

the rough-ridden highways on lost opportunities,

whose fellowing fields lie in disparitys' communities.

And for the stranger, whether they be far or near,

lies the road of so quickly that often does veer

down the steep, winding road called long ago

where the vineyards of choices never do grow.

The door that never did not look back,

lies at the end of the road lonely and lack

of passengers passing their way to someday,

those travelers on empty never finidng their way

until the thread is cut loose and the lots at last made.


Submitted: October 17, 2021

© Copyright 2021 L.E. Belle. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Rob73

A well written poem.

Mon, October 18th, 2021 4:54am

Author
Reply

Thanks Rob :)

Sun, October 17th, 2021 10:43pm

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