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She has quit knocking on that door
Long back.
The door was ajar...but...numb
It was a deep-seated need within
That had refused to accept the closing door.
Her eyes were bruised with unquenched hope
Time and again just as the door was about to close,
She had gently placed her palm on it to draw it to a stop.
Resolving to leave
She had spun around to stride back to the door, often,
To be jolted by its coldness, again.
Frustrated, she had even banged her fists on the door
A furtive look through the narrow opening
She didn't have to wonder anymore.
She knew she had to leave
It was her final knock on the naysayer door
She said...
Adieu door! |
