My doors have always opened up with ease
They have no lock; with just a finger-shove
they come ajar — I never have to squeeze
my body through the gap (helped from above).
So doors galore’s the subject of this piece;
I revel in the portals of my world.
The openings I find only increase;
and often over thresholds I am hurled.
However, here’s the thing about my doors:
Whichever one I push — tall, small or wide
(and in my life there have been many scores),
there’s nothing for me on the other side.
For every time I find an open door
what lies behind is just a dozen more!
© Alan Morrison, 2014