When one door closes another opens : not for too long. 

I walked a street

And clicked a door

A door :ajar, half -open,

It stood there,

And looked at me

Smiled and said-

“Step in,

Peek around..”

It wasn’t a pleasant looking door,

Its corners crumbling,

Chest heaving,

Old wood, too much rain!

I stopped for a while. Pondered at the invite

“What will this provide?”

Hmph, he said,

With that it sensed my despise..and slammed shut its divide.

I walked away,

Met another one,

This time it was a bleeding blue door.

I didn’t ponder

Several doors passed,

Each saw me pass.

None called onto me twice,

Some laughed at me.

A pink one cursed me. An oldie kicked,

A palace door beckoned me with bribe

The antique door hypnotized

But I waited.

I reached a passing train

And saw yet another opening,

It called onto me.

The Traveler’s Door,

I sighed,

It had no eyes, no smell, no colour, no race,

A door – a traveler’s memoir,

A moving machine carried it afar.

Off I sped,

Jumped, Yelled and Crawled,

And hopped onto its crevice.

Now seated in between its iron rods,

I find

My door, my right – no colour, no disguise.

My door, my right – no colour, no disguise.

**