Theme: Aging

The Open Door

there were windows that opened

to give glimpses

of faces,

with the hint of a smile

that gave a moment’s relief

before they faded

into oblivion.

I kept my window open

to let in

a whiff of the breeze

carrying a fragrance

that freshened for a while

the toxic suffocation

of my room

with the door securely bolted, locked

from stormy winds

that knocked, sometimes rattled it

to the hinges.

But now,

just a few years from the precipice

I have thrown open my door

for the storm to enter

to spray my hair,

shake me out of stupor,

with that bold, mature woman

blue jeans, black top,

scrutinizing eyes, cruel lips

standing at the threshold

her silhouette emitting lightning

that enters my body

and makes me feel the rainbow inside me

at last.


More By  :  S. A. Hamid

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