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by Lana Broussard 2 months ago in surreal poetry
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Image courtesy of Pixabay

Some doors are golden oak

shine like melted honey

but also locked and foreboding

there are metal ones also

cool to the touch

futuristic and impenetrable

Some doors are inset

with tiny window panes

riding on hinges

like 1930's gangsters

A few doors

are flung open

swishing in fresh air

and visitors both welcome

and not

White doors end up

dinged with messy hand prints

from people

pushing and clawing

their way in and out

Ah, but the door in the mists

framed with a graceful arc

a jeweled curtain

veiling the mystery

beckons us

nothing concrete there

between you

and the other side

surreal poetry

About the author

Lana Broussard

Lana Broussard writes primarily under the pen name, L.T. Garvin. She writes fiction, poetry, essays, and humor. She is the author of Confessions of a 4th Grade Athlete, Animals Galore, The Snjords, and Dancing with the Sandman.

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