I wrote this poem a while ago. It's purely based on my imagination.
Dive deep into the anxious serenity of my mind and do tell me what you make out of it 😉
I stood there, at the front door
With hands too heavy to knock
It looked like it was timber
But felt like it was rock
I stood there, at the front door
And watched and watched and watched
The doorplate that read “Stranger!”
On a door that still was locked
A part of me was addled
A part of me was sad
A part of me in wonder
Why are these clouds so mad?
In all this introspection
I vividly started to see
That it might look like home
But not like home for me
I looked in through the window
And all I saw was dust
It gusted and then landed
A crust on top of crust
And then it started raining
As if the sky would melt
I knocked the door in haste
Still no voice could be felt
I knocked and knocked and knocked
In all my anxious frenzy
The door had still not opened
The house still won’t attend me
It made me lost and hopeless
I had no cause to stay
So I turned my back and walked
In distress and dismay
A moment passed or so,
I found myself submerged
In water, thoughts and fear
When the world I left reemerged
I heard a squeaking sound
The door was now being opened
My soul escaped in horror
I sighed and then was frozen
I could not see the door
But knew that someone held it
For me so I could enter
But I still could not help it
It made me scared and curious
I turned my back once more
To see who stood behind me
The stranger at that door
As I looked back in hurry
To see who lived this way
In a home so unfamiliar
In a place so far away
I came across a person
Who stopped me dead in tracks
My eyes came out of sockets
And made my core collapse
I still do not believe
The things that I did see
That home, that door, that person
For that stranger was me!
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@translogicalguy