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Green Door
24 March, 2007
Author: Pondering Red

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Through the small narrow streets,
in the old part of town
where one could easily imagine
horse drawn carriages
appearing around the corner,
I stopped at the green door.

Bright emerald colour -
with windows glazed
an opaque frosty mystery.
Something magical
must lie beyond this door.

I sensed a feeling of inexplicable wonder.
Windows watching me -
the eyes to the houses.
An empty street
full of peering eyes.
no people.

As I walked away
from the emerald door,
i could sense the aura emanating
from the storys
of its' openings and closings.

A wisp of mist
softy feathered its way
along the path I was taking -
pale green morning light.
I felt as if I was
hundreds of years back in time.

As I looked behind,
the green door was radiating.
I walked back into this time space
and the small grocery store,
back into today,
with the squeaking
of the green door hinges
e c h o i n g
through the cobblestone streets.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Bipedalguy (4.156.108.139) -- Sunday, March 25 2007, 10:18 am

Great story

I liked it a lot. I was expecting it to have a connection with St. Patrick's Day, with frequent use of "green" and "Emerald", but it's o.k. that this wasn't established. That day was a week ago.
Really great write.
Catyrose (128.123.85.206) -- Sunday, March 25 2007, 09:02 pm

I agree

with Bipe, really great write.
 
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