Poetry: White Door
A cold white door
not in my home
one key
golden hope
not in her hand.
Oh the cold
pale room!
not in my dreams
who could have
known
not in my mind.
Outside
the vengeful
wind
blows angry
inside we’re
shuddering
touch of shaking fingers.
Estranged white folds
adorn white curves
and pressed against
the idea
we gasp.
Aged in a moment
too soon
the deception revealed
a parting gift
and a
parted loss
is all I know.
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Would never guessed the story behind this beautiful poem. 😀😲✌️
Thank you. Yes, it was on my birthday in ’85, I think. I was 21. She was not
lol but you kinda still remember her :)haha
I’ll always always remember Cassandra
Wow..cool name 🙂 very #greek 😀 like a goddess
One of the loveliest creatures I’ve ever seen
This is an affecting poem even if I’m not sure what’s happening in the scene. But you convey the feeling very well.
Thanks very much. It’s expressed regret over sleeping with a certain girl when I was much younger. In a hotel that had not turned on the heat in that wing for some reason and it was January and frigid. But the sharing hands represent both the cold and the nervousness of the moment. I don’t usually convey the meaning, but it’s you. So there you are
Thanks for explaining. 😊 It makes a lot of sense. I like how you wrote it.
Thanks Victoria!
Reblogged this on Secret First Draft: A Site of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and commented:
Rob of Just Ruminating
Thank very much for reblogging this poem!