New England Doorways by debra
Black and solid
Atop the picket fence,
The claw latch protectively clutches.
Open the gate, curiosity may risk.
Ivy and geraniums in a pretty window
To the intruder
I drew a false picture-
And shutters slammed
Around about must be your approach.
steps of anticipation.
From my window
upon your back.
And dare I make an assumption.
Flickering black lanterns secured to the
Hope in the dark,
A warm glow falls interrogating the
An ornate kick plate
Presents the iron inclines.
And I wonder what stories trod from the visitor's
Lush holly bushes interfere
With - a - possible
A sturdy old Maple,
Lends her tender branch to listen.
Resurrected on a solid brick column
Guards an iron horse.
So glad you chose my door to
But this door remains
Turn your gaze to the old worn path.
My back door is always open.