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Behind the Door – A poem

A beautiful woman's face stares out from a yellow gold background an enigmatic expression on her face.
The beautiful image above courtesy of Dark Souls on Pixabay.

Behind the Door

There’s a chip, chip, chip
Of a sliver of doubt;
That’s taking away
The what ifs and withouts.

And an amorous idea,
With no airs or graces,
It’s flouncing about,
And it’s taking me places.

It’s taking me places
With velvet and steel,
Not a place you should come
If you’re frightened to feel.

And the heels on my shoes
Spark a clickety clack,
On a floor that’s ascending;
There’s no turning back.

Oh! My fluttering heart,
Beats a tango in time,
To the breath that is gasping
In keeping with mine.

Is it slow, is it fast?
Is it her, is it me?
Let me open that door;
There’s a whole world to see.

©Cathie Tufnail

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Published inLightPoetryPoetry - rhyme

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