Doors
The graffiti covered door
I will leave until last
Door marked number one, the hall of Lost Souls
I barely made it out
A live entity was too much for them
Door number 48
Drop your keys in the bowl on your way in
Who will you be taking home tonight?
The green door holds old Rockers
Not my scene
The dark brown door with its shiny brass handles
I wish I had never stepped inside
The old monks with their grey wizened faces
Stood in a circle in continuous prayer, I run
The door with the grill, says stay outside
I should have listened
Inside was something that reminded me
of the Pin Man, a horror film I had watched
Again, my feet run
The graffiti door I did not enter
I knew it would be filled with young faces
With paint on their hands…
© Anita Dawes 2021
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 